


Longbourn Inheritance

by LPK9



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Novel, Regency, Regency Romance, Sweet, clean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 61,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28160853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPK9/pseuds/LPK9
Summary: A family tragedy has led to significant changes in the Bennet family, which in turn alters the sisters' relationships with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy.  Elizabeth finds herself balancing the needs of Longbourn and her family with her own desires for a happy future.  When Mr. Collins appears on the scene, the situation grows even more complicated.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Bennet/Charles Bingley
Comments: 420
Kudos: 490





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notice: I will be publishing this story on Amazon and therefore am required to take most of it down. I will remove most of this story on March 14, 2021, so if you start reading now, read quickly!

Chapter 1 

_Longbourn_

_September, 1811_

“Very well, Mr. Gregory,” Elizabeth Bennet agreed. “I think it is appropriate to replace the fencing since it has been more than ten years since the last repair, but please tell Mr. Gillingham that this is the last time. He must do his own share in maintaining the boundary between Longbourn and his estate.”

“I will, Miss Elizabeth. Are you finished with the ledger?”

“No, but I should be soon. I will put it in the desk when I am finished.”

“Very well,” the steward replied, rising to his feet and hovering awkwardly.

Elizabeth looked up at the man, forcing her face to relax into a welcoming smile. Mr. Gregory was a young man and rather hesitant, though he was a loyal and gifted steward to the estate of Longbourn.

“Yes, Mr. Gregory?”

“Miss Elizabeth, there are some legal documents which your uncle, Mr. Philips, gave to me to be signed by Mr. Bennet. I was hoping ...”

“Leave them on the desk,” Elizabeth instructed. “I will see that they are signed.”

The man nodded gratefully and left the office, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Elizabeth bent her head over the ledger and ran her eyes over the expenditures for the stables the last few months. The head groom was, she thought, reliable enough, but it was best to do spot checks. A previous steward of Longbourn had been embezzling for many years before Elizabeth’s sharp eye had detected anomalies. Since then, she had embraced the mantra, trust but verify.

A few minutes later, with the numbers tallied properly, she placed the ledger in its appropriate drawer and rose to her feet with a slight groan. She stretched her arms and legs and glanced outside longingly. The Septemberday was unseasonably cool but she needed a walk. It was only 2 o’clock in the afternoon, and she should be able to get in a brisk walk outside before dinner.

There was a knock at the door and Elizabeth opened it to find her younger sister, Mary, standing there, her hand still up.

“Oh, Elizabeth,” Mary exclaimed, lowering her arm. “I apologize if I interrupted you.”

“Not at all, Mary,” Elizabeth answered, stepping over to gather the papers that Mr. Gregory had left her. “Do you need me?”

“I was hoping all five of us could talk soon,” Mary said in a lowered tone.

Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows at this and glanced down the corridor, observing that it was empty.

“Where is Mama?” she asked softly.

“Lying down for a nap.”

“Very well, I will join you in Lydia’s room in a few minutes. I need Father to sign some papers.”

Mary grimaced a little, “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth answered gratefully.

Elizabeth strode toward the library, her eye noting that the carpet directly in front of the library door was wearing through. It would need to be replaced soon.

She knocked on the library door and was pleased to hear her father’s faint voice responding.

Inside, she was even more pleased to observe that her father was behind his desk and that his eyes were reasonably focused. Early afternoon tended to be an uncertain time – sometimes her father’s predilection for strong drink would result in near unconsciousness by this hour, but at other times he would be reasonably alert.

“Lizzy, my dear,” the man said cheerfully. “It is so good to see you on a lovely autumn day. How are you?”

“I am well, Father,” Elizabeth replied, keeping the papers in her hand. It never worked to ask her father to sign papers immediately. He required some company before completing such tasks.

“I was reading Hamlet again,” her father exclaimed, his slightly shaking hand touching the book on the desk in front of him. “Quite a rum fellow, young Hamlet. Do you not agree?”

Elizabeth suppressed a sigh but nodded and sat down. Before her father’s slide into habitual drunkenness, she had welcomed such discussions. Now she was busy keeping the Bennet family afloat financially, and today had been a particularly tiring day. Nevertheless, for all that she was angry at her father for his weakness, she still loved him and Hamlet was not her favorite Shakespearean play, but at least not as irritating as King Lear.

“Indeed he was,” Elizabeth agreed, settling back in her seat. “When one thinks of his weakness in some ways, his strengths in others ...”

Fifteen minutes later she excused herself, having obtained her father’s signature on the necessary papers. She hurried up the stairs to Lydia’s room, which was at the back of the house and the farthest from Mrs. Bennet’s chamber where the nominal lady of the house was resting.

All of her sisters waited within; Mary and Kitty were sitting side by side reading the novel _The Vicar of Wakefield_ , and Lydia and Jane were sitting on the window seat, with the younger, if taller, girl leaning slightly into the eldest Miss Bennet.

“I apologize for the delay,” Elizabeth said, stepping in and closing the door.

“Nonsense, Lizzy,” Mary returned, lifting her head from her book. “We were hoping it would take a little while; I assume that Father was well enough to sign the papers since you were closeted with him for fifteen minutes?”

“Yes, he was,” Elizabeth said with relief. There were times when she had to visit Mr. Bennet three or four times before finding him in the right mood to sign necessary documents.

She sat down on Lydia’s narrow bed and leaned back against the wall with a sigh. She desperately wished for a walk. Perhaps after this meeting, she would be able to sneak outside for much needed fresh air and exercise.

“We will not keep you long,” Mary said quickly, obviously catching her mood. “I merely wished to tell you of our visit to Aunt Philips’s house today. She told me that Netherfield Hall is to be let at last.”

Elizabeth sat up with interest, “Indeed! Do you know any details?”

“We do,” Kitty piped up. “Aunt Philips says that his name is Mr. Bingley, and he is a young gentleman with a large fortune of some four or five thousand pounds a year. He came down and toured Netherfield Hall and was so pleased that he immediately chose to take it. He will be moving in by Michaelmas.”

“Is he married or single?”

“Single, according to Aunt Philips,” Kitty declared.

“He does not have his own estate elsewhere in the kingdom?” Elizabeth queried.

“I believe he is the son of a successful man of trade and thus does not have an ancestral estate,” Kitty explained. “We wished to ask you whether we should tell Mother of this gentleman’s arrival.”

“No!” Elizabeth replied forcefully and then, seeing the distressed look on her second youngest sister’s face, continued more gently. “No. Mother will learn soon enough of Mr. Bingley’s appearance in our sphere, but Father will not visit the man and Mother will only fret about it. Best to wait for as long as possible to tell her.”

“Aunt Philips will tell her soon enough,” Mary commented grimly.

“Mother has been especially fretful of late and not inclined to go to Meryton,” Jane commented. “If the horses are busy on the farm, then the coach will not be available.”

Elizabeth smiled at her sister, though a little sadly. Jane used to be completely incapable of any kind of manipulation, but the last months had been hard on them all. The eldest Miss Bennet had learned the necessity of managing their mother, sometimes through mild subterfuge.

“The horses are quite busy on the farm,” Elizabeth assured them all. “So yes, we will wait as long as possible. For all we know, the man will not be interested in mingling with his neighbors. While he is reputedly single, he may already be attached to a young woman. There is no reason to raise hopes for Mother any sooner than necessary.”

“That is what we thought,” Mary agreed, rising to her feet, “but we wished to check with you. Come Kitty, let us retire to our room to read more of the novel together, shall we?”

Kitty nodded and departed with Mary, leaving Jane, Elizabeth, and Lydia. Elizabeth cast a longing glance toward the door but did not move, responding to the silent look of entreaty from Jane.

“Mother spoke to Lydia again this morning about going out into society,” Jane explained. “Lydia does not wish to do so, but Mother is most insistent.”

Elizabeth ran a weary hand across her face and sighed, “My poor sister, I am so sorry. I had thought that Mother had given up on that desire the last time we spoke of it.”

Lydia hunched angry shoulders, “She says that Jane is growing old, you are too high-handed to find a husband, Mary is plain, and Kitty is sickly. She actually said she thought I might marry first, as if I wish to do so! It makes me so angry, Lizzy! How can she pressure me in such a way when I still miss Matthew so very much?”

Jane reached an arm around her young sister’s body and pulled her closer still, “I know you do, Lyddy. Mama misses him too, but in a different way.”

“All she seems to care about is that her only son died and now Longbourn will be lost when Papa is dead. Matthew was my twin brother! I loved him so very much. I will miss him until the day I die and I will not go out into society and dance and smile and pretend that everything is all right! He has only been gone six months!”

“I know, my dear, I know,” Jane murmured, pressing a kiss into her sister’s glossy brown hair. “We all miss him, but of course you were the closest to him of all. I cannot pretend to know how you feel, but I too grieve deeply over the loss of our dear brother.”

This provoked sobs in young Lydia Bennet, and Jane wrapped her loving arms around the girl while tilting her head toward Elizabeth. The two eldest Miss Bennets could often speak without words, and Elizabeth knew that Jane was ready to care for their youngest sister while Elizabeth escaped.

She did leave, creeping out of the room, down the stairs, and through the back door into Longbourn’s garden.

Elizabeth strode quickly toward a path which wound through the forest, not relaxing until she was shielded by trees from the house. She needed time alone, she must have it else she would go mad, but she was the one that the servants and tenants came to for direction, and if anyone saw her – well, she would feel obliged to stop and speak to them.

After five minutes of brisk walking along the winding path, Elizabeth felt the knot of stress in her neck unfurl. She found herself breathing more deeply, inflating her lungs with the crisp, fresh-scented air. Her eyes took in the beauty of the woods in autumn; it had thus far been a chilly September, but today the temperatures were pleasant. The autumn leaves were beginning to show splashes of yellow and orange in the midst of the summer’s greenery. Holly berries glinted, bright sparks of red in the underbrush where squirrels and birds rustled and chirped, calling to each other.

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She loved Longbourn. She loved its tenants, its lands, its forests, its manse. She had worked hard and suffered much these last years, but she would not regret the hard work, the late nights, of keeping the estate in good health until her father passed on and the lands and house went to her distant cousin, Mr. William Collins.

She found herself praying for her father, that he would break free from the torment in his soul, that he would be freed from his love for alcohol, that he would live a long and healthy life, for all their sakes.

/

/

Author note: I hope you've enjoyed the beginning of my new story! If you haven't yet read my latest novel, [_Darcy Sails After Her_](https://www.amazon.com/Darcy-Sails-After-Her-Prejudice-ebook/dp/B08NYSYLQK/ref=sr_1_19?crid=9Q3FEYWPOLMD&dchild=1&keywords=pride+and+prejudice+variations&qid=1608338361&s=digital-text&sprefix=pride+and%2Cdigital-text%2C354&sr=1-19), you can find it [on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited](https://www.amazon.com/Darcy-Sails-After-Her-Prejudice-ebook/dp/B08NYSYLQK/ref=sr_1_19?crid=9Q3FEYWPOLMD&dchild=1&keywords=pride+and+prejudice+variations&qid=1608338361&s=digital-text&sprefix=pride+and%2Cdigital-text%2C354&sr=1-19). 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

“You girls must have new dresses for the assembly,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “Mr. Bingley will be there, but so will every remotely eligible woman in Meryton and the environs! We are already at a disadvantage since your father is too … ill to visit Mr. Bingley; you must be dressed beautifully if there is any chance of forming an attachment with the young man!”

Elizabeth sighed inwardly and gathered her thoughts. She was somewhat surprised that it had taken Mrs. Bennet five full days to learn of Mr. Bingley, but now the lady was obsessed with meeting the man and ensnaring him as husband to one of her daughters. Elizabeth had successfully delayed discussing the young man for a full day but finally Mrs. Bennet had cornered her in the parlor.

Elizabeth took a careful sip of tea, “Mama, Mr. Bingley has never met any of us. He will not know whether we have new dresses or not.”

“Nonsense, Lizzy, nonsense. We have not had new dresses in nearly a year except for the black and lavender ones while we mourned Matthew! I absolutely insist that you provide the funds for them. We will need to go to Meryton this afternoon to visit Mrs. Shelton for fittings. Furthermore, Lydia will attend the assembly whether she wishes to or no. She is second in beauty to Jane and so very lively, or at least she was lively. Now she just mopes around the house all the time.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, struggling to manage her anger, “Matthew was her twin brother, Mama! You know how very close they were! You can hardly blame her for still being distressed. It has only been six months since we lost him.”

Her mother frowned at her, “Of course I understand, and I grieve him as well. My dear son, my only son, struck down in his prime! And it was all your father’s fault! If only he had taken Matthew to the London doctor when the poor boy was so sick …”

“Mother,” Elizabeth interrupted, straightening her back and glaring into the woman’s face, “please stop saying that! Please! You know Matthew was always weak; indeed, you took him to multiple doctors, you took him to the seaside, you did everything you could. Those last weeks we all knew … we all knew he was near his end, Mama. You know he did not want to be tormented by being jolted in a carriage to London, nor did he wish to be prodded and poked by more doctors. He just wanted to be here with his family, at his precious Longbourn. Please, Mama, please, do not … do not harangue Father. It truly was not his fault!”

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, “I lost everything when Matthew died, you know that! My only son, my security! Now Longbourn will pass on to that vile Mr. Collins, and we will be thrown to the hedgerows. And given how your father is drinking, he will probably die sooner rather than later! And then what shall we do? The only hope is that one of you girls will marry for money. Thus, you must have new dresses. ”

Elizabeth sighed and nodded, “Very well, Jane, Mary and Kitty will get new dresses. I do not need one as I have no intention of marrying soon. And Lydia will not be going to the assembly, Mama. She does not wish to, and I will not force her to do so.”

“How dare you? I am your mother, and hers! I will decide what Lydia does or does not do!”

“Father will back me up, you know that,” Elizabeth returned quietly.

“Oh yes, I know he will indeed do whatever you say, Elizabeth. Of course he will! This is a pretty thing, is it not? My husband a drunkard, my daughter ruling over me! Never did I imagine that my life would come to this. If only my dear Matthew were still alive. He always had compassion on my nerves!”

The lady rose to her feet and flounced out of the room with a huff. A moment later, Elizabeth heard her calling for their butler, Mr. Hill, to arrange for the carriage after luncheon.

“I am sorry, Elizabeth,” Mary said softly. She had been sitting by the parlor fire throughout this diatribe, but now she rose and sank down next to her older sister.

“It is all right,” Elizabeth replied wearily. “She will forget she even said such things in a few hours.”

“It is horribly unfair. When I think of how much you do, of how much you have done. It is only thanks to you and your hard work and intelligence that Longbourn is solvent! Mother has no head for figures or economy, and Father …”

Elizabeth shook her head disconsolately, “Father is who he is, Mary. I pray every day that he will choose to give up the liquor, but nothing I have done, nothing that any of us has done, has changed his course.”

“I truly do not understand,” Mary replied, her lips pinched. “We all suffered when we lost Matthew. We all loved him dearly. But none of the rest of us has turned to alcohol, not even our mother! How could Father renege on his duties to us, to his wife, to Longbourn!”

“Jane says, and I think she is right, that Father feels guilty that Matthew died.”

Mary looked at her with wonder, “Guilty? But you said … it was not truly his fault, was it?”

Elizabeth rose to her feet and strode to the window, staring out over the side lawn which faced to east.

“No, Mary, it is not Father’s fault, not at all. I do not know if you remember the birth of the twins but you must know that Matthew was always sickly, even from birth. Mother and Father did everything they could for him, but there was something wrong with his heart. Nonetheless, Mother is prone to blame others for her sorrows, and I am certain her accusations have dug into our father’s soul. Father lost his heir, his son, and his legacy in one blow ... and it has fueled his desire to drink in excess to avoid the guilt and loss he feels. I do not pretend to understand his … predilection for alcohol, but you know he was not like this before Matthew died.”

“I do know,” Mary replied sadly. “Oh Elizabeth, I pray for you every day, that our Lord will give you the strength to carry a burden that is too much. I wish I could do more …”

“You are doing enough, Mary,” her sister assured her, turning around with a slightly wavering smile. “You have taken Kitty under your wing, even as Jane has mothered Lydia through this ordeal. I was born with a very strong will, you know that, and am quite able to stand up to Mother so long as Father supports me. I confess it does hurt me when Mother is so intemperate in her speech, but I know Father is grateful for all I do for Longbourn, for our family.”

“The rest of us are very grateful too, Lizzy. And I do not need a new dress. You know I have little chance of attracting a husband as I am the least handsome of us.”

Elizabeth shook her head, “No, you will have a new dress, Mary. Mother is right that it has been quite some time since we purchased anything besides mourning. We sold a few cattle only recently and they went for a high price. We can afford new dresses.”

Mary shook her head, “I do not know how you keep track of such things.”

“I truly enjoy the complexities of estate management,” her sister confessed. “I find it fascinating. I admit that Kitty’s sorrow, and Lydia’s, is harder for me to cope with well. I feel so helpless in the face of their grief. I know you suffer as well, but are less open about it.”

Mary looked down at her own hands, “I will be honest, Lizzy, that most of my memories of Matthew are tinged with sadness because he was sickly. I do miss him, very much, but in a way, and I hope this does not sound terrible …”

“You are thankful he is no longer suffering,” her sister finished softly. “I understand completely, Mary, and I agree. He is in Heaven, freed from the pain of a broken body. ”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

“Welcome, Darcy!” Charles Bingley exclaimed, striding out of the side yard with a broad smile on his face.

Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of the grand estate of Pemberley in Derbyshire, swung from his chestnut stallion Galileo and reached out to grasp his friend’s hand.

“Thank you for inviting me, Bingley,” he responded sincerely. He was pleased to be away from London and entirely ready for a change of scenery. More than that, Darcy wished to spend time with his always cheerful friend, Charles Bingley; the man was inveterately optimistic, and after the sorrows and struggles of these last months, Darcy needed someone to lift his spirits.

“I will take your horse for you, sir,” a stable boy suggested, running up to the pair. Darcy handed over the reins, gave Galileo a pat on the rump, and gazed around thoughtfully at the Netherfield mansion.

“It looks very pleasant, Bingley,” he commented approvingly. He had been afraid that his friend would choose something gothic and run down, but the building seemed modern and well built.

“It is,” Bingley agreed eagerly. “Do you wish to refresh yourself inside, or would you care to stroll around to formal gardens now?”

“I would like to stretch my legs,” Darcy assured him, falling into step besides his shorter friend. A moment later, a red furry bolt charged around the corner of the house and began leaping and cavorting around Bingley’s boots. Seconds after that, a servant raced around the corner.

“Oh sir,” the man cried out. “I do apologize! He must have heard and smelled you, sir.”

“That is quite all right,” Bingley responded with a laugh, leaning down to pat the dog on the head. “Well, what do you think of Maxwell, Darcy? I purchased him only a few days ago for quite a price as both his parents are good pointers.”

Darcy knelt down on the dry grass to inspect the beast. Maxwell was a spaniel, his top coat and legs a rich red, his underside white. He had the short coat and feathered legs and tail of his kind, and his brown eyes were liquid pools of enthusiasm for life in general and his master in particular.

“He is indeed a fine specimen,” Darcy agreed. “How old is he?”

“Six months,” his friend said with pride. “He is still young and in training, but I intend to do quite a bit of shooting, and the agent, Mr. Morris, assures me that the birds are plentiful on the southwest part of the estate.”

“That sounds delightful,” Darcy replied courteously. He was not a rabid sporting enthusiast like many of his contemporaries, but he liked it well enough; hunting was, at least, a good reason for getting outside and enjoying some exercise. Hunting would also provide a buffer from ...

“Mr. Darcy!” a shrill female voice exclaimed from behind them. “Sir, it is so pleasant to see you again!”

Darcy turned around and bowed slightly to the lady, “Miss Bingley, it is pleasant to see you again. Thank you for being willing to act as hostess while I visit.”

“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” the lady responded with a coquettish batting of her eyelids. “You know that you have honored us with your presence! The society here is unvarying and provincial – we are most grateful to have a distinguished guest like yourself.”

“Now Caroline,” Bingley admonished, “you are not being fair. All our visitors have been most friendly and welcoming.”

The lady tossed her titian hair, “Nonsense, Charles, you know that they care only about your fortune. Mark my words, every one of our visitors had a daughter or niece or cousin desirous of marrying a rich man. It is quite disgusting.”

Darcy suppressed a disdainful look and a smirk with some difficulty. Miss Caroline Bingley had spent the last two years hunting him with the obsessive fervor of a wolf stalking a hapless sheep; she wished above all things to be the mistress of Pemberley and the Darcy fortune, though he thought it unlikely she cared at all about his own personal character and wishes. Her speech was a clear case of the pot calling the kettle black.

“Well, we will see,” Bingley responded cheerfully. “There is an assembly in Meryton tonight and we will all attend. I look forward to meeting more of the local populace.”

Miss Bingley immediately rushed into speech, “Mr. Darcy, if you are too fatigued from your journey, or, more likely, have no desire to meet the occupants of this backwards town, I would be most pleased to stay behind at Netherfield with you. There will be little of interest for both of us at this tiresome gathering, I fear.”

“Now Caroline,” Bingley remonstrated, his usually good humored face disapproving.

“I will attend the assembly,” Darcy said stiffly. In truth, he had no desire at all to mingle with complete strangers, but he had joined Bingley with the understanding that his friend was far more sociable than he was. Furthermore, Darcy would not stay behind with Miss Bingley for fear of giving the lady even more ideas than she already had.

“That is splendid!” Bingley declared, his good humor returning. “I am certain we will have a charming time.”

//////////////////////////////////

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood, back against the wall, and moodily surveyed the assembly of people dancing and cavorting in the midst of the assembly hall in Meryton. The building was of reasonable size but of no particular interest from an architectural perspective, and the food and decorations were provincial and uninspiring. 

The dance was but half over, and he was already entirely weary of the affair; the men to whom he had been introduced were all commonplace, and the women were, with only one exception, without any real beauty. The exception was an exquisite blonde whose seraphic eyes matched her delicate blue gown. She was, Darcy admitted to himself, one of the most handsome women he had ever beheld, but it was all too likely that nothing of substance lay behind that gorgeous face. Bingley, being Bingley, had naturally asked her to dance, and they were now circling the room for the second time, gazing into one another’s eyes and apparently conversing cheerfully. The woman in question, a Miss ... Burnet (Bennet? Bent?) was one of a passel of daughters, overseen by a clearly vulgar mother who was one of the first to trumpet the wealth of the two new bachelors in their rustic midst. It was exasperating that he had entered this room only two hours ago, and already he heard the whispers from the occupants.

_“10,000 pounds a year!”_

_“A large estate in Derbyshire!”_

How weary he was of it all, of women chasing men for their money, of men pursuing women for connections and beauty. He was well aware that he and Georgiana were blessed in their wealth, but he had nearly lost his darling sister to a fortune hunter only a few months previously; there were times when he felt he would be more satisfied with a modest estate and fortune where he would no longer be pursued by vulgar matrons. But no, a simple life was not for him, Darcy of Pemberley.

“Come, Darcy!” the familiar voice of his closest friend cried out, causing Darcy to lift his miserable gaze to meet that of Charles Bingley.

The man clapped a familiar hand on his arm and smiled cheerfully, “I must have you dance! I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”

Darcy stood up even straighter to tower over his friend, “I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room, whom it would not be a punishment for me to stand up with.”

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honor, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty.”

Darcy fixed his eyes on the blonde beauty, now standing at the refreshment table speaking with one of her myriad sisters.

“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” he commented.

Bingley smiled even more broadly, “Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say, very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”

“Which do you mean?” the master of Pemberley inquired coldly, turning around to stare at the young woman sitting demurely on a chair against the wall. She was dressed in a pale green gown and her hair was not blonde, but light brown. She was, he supposed, pretty enough, but not nearly as handsome as her eldest sister. She was also absurdly youthful; he thought she ought be in the schoolroom as opposed to out in company. 

  
“She is tolerable,” he said contemptuously, “but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”

Bingley caught his breath at these exceptionally unkind words and his gaze shifted uneasily to the young lady. She had clearly overheard his friend’s brutal speech and her beautiful brown eyes were filling with tears, her cheeks reddened. Bingley hesitated, uncertain of what to do, only to be rescued when another one of the Bennet sisters, who had been hovering nearby, stepped forward and blocked his view of the girl.

Charles Bingley shot an indignant look at Darcy but the man was looking especially haughty and irritable – it would do no good to remonstrate with Darcy now. But he would speak to Darcy later on this matter. It was all well and good to be Darcy of Pemberley and to think he was superior to others, but it was not gentleman-like to make a pretty, young girl cry.

/////////////////////

Elizabeth Bennet felt her whole body relax and she nodded gratefully to Lady Lucas, the mother of her good friend Charlotte.

“Thank you, Lady Lucas. I did not wish to leave Hannah without a position, but even a few pounds make a difference now, and we truly do not need her.”

“You are doing our family a great service,” Lady Lucas responded placidly. “I know Hannah is an excellent kitchen maid, and our cook is getting up in years. She will be a wonderful addition to our staff.”

“Hannah makes the most delightful biscuits,” Charlotte Lucas exclaimed, having walked up to them after an energetic dance. “I truly do not know how you can part with her, Elizabeth. I only hope you will not waste away!”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to make an arch reply, only to stop as Mary and Kitty approached. Mary looked furious and Kitty was nearly crying.

“What is wrong?” Elizabeth demanded worriedly. “Kitty, are you ill?”

“No, she is not ill,” Mary hissed angrily. “She is hurt. That vile Mr. Darcy said the most insulting thing to her, Lizzy! He said that she was not handsome enough to tempt him to dance with her. How dare he?”

Kitty did start crying at these words, and Mary wrapped a protective arm around her younger sister.

“Truly, Kitty,” Elizabeth said gently, casting an outraged glance at Mr. Darcy, who was now standing in the corner of the room next to the equally haughty Miss Bingley, “Do not take it to heart. He may be rich and well connected, but his manners are those of an ill-mannered pig.”

Lady Lucas gasped at this, but Kitty managed a watery chuckle.

“Truly, Lizzy, I know I am not as beautiful as Jane; indeed, no one is! But to have him look at me with such contempt ...”

At this moment, Jane and Mr. Bingley approached and all the women turned toward him, though Kitty hid slightly behind Mary. 

Jane smiled at them all, though her brow was slightly wrinkled as she observed the tears in her young sister’s eyes.

“Mr. Bingley, you have already been introduced to Lady Lucas and Miss Lucas, I know. This is my sister, Elizabeth, my sister, Mary, and my sister, Kitty.”

Bingley bowed to all of them and bestowed a special smile on Mary, “Miss Mary, might I have the pleasure of the next dance?”

Mary looked startled; she was the least beautiful of the Bennet women and rarely was asked to dance when gentlemen were scarce, as they were this evening.

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley, I would be honored.”

“And after I dance with you, Miss Mary, might I have the pleasure of dancing with Miss Kitty?”

Kitty quickly ran a handkerchief over her face and nodded, “I would be honored, sir.”

“I believe the music is starting up, Miss Mary,” Bingley stated, and held out his hand for her.

When he was well out of hearing, Elizabeth mused, “Mr. Bingley’s manners, at least, are without reproach. How odd that he should have such an ill-mannered friend.”

“Mr. Darcy is extremely wealthy, Eliza,” Charlotte commented, her eyes on the tall gentleman from Derbyshire. “That, combined with his fine figure and distinguished pedigree, is enough to make him a good friend even if his temperament is not the best.”

“I suppose that is true,” Elizabeth sighed. “Come, Kitty, let us retire to the ladies’ room so you can refresh yourself before you dance with Mr. Bingley. I see Mother is finished with her discussion with Mrs. Long, and I know you do not wish to discuss your unpleasant interaction with Mr. Darcy.”

“Indeed I do not!” Kitty agreed fervently, allowing her sister to draw her away.

/

/

_ Author note: Thanks for all of your encouraging notes and well wishes; they keep me motivated to write! :-) _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

“I do like Mr. Bingley very much,” Jane agreed, her skilled hands whipping stitches into a petticoat which had split during the dance the previous night. “He is kind and good humored and an excellent conversationalist.”

“I believe that Mr. Bingley liked you equally well,” Charlotte Lucas commented, carefully inspecting the boy’s jacket which she was patching. “He danced with you twice, after all.”

The young ladies of Longbourn and Lucas Lodge had, as was usual after an assembly, gathered together to discuss the dance and its delights. Since Lady Lucas was more enthusiastic about girls learning practical skills, the Bennet daughters had descended on Lucas Lodge with various garments in need of repair. They were now cozily ensconced in a large attic room where Charlotte Lucas, her sister Maria, and even Lady Lucas often spent hours working on clothing and the like.

Mrs. Bennet, who was appalled at the very idea of her daughters doing such work, had complained as a matter of form but was now sitting in the front parlor gossiping with Lady Lucas.

“Mr. Bingley danced with a great many people,” Elizabeth observed. “Indeed, that is part of his charm, I believe. Mr. Darcy, of course, only danced with Miss Bingley and her sister, Mrs. Hurst.”

“And spent the rest of the time walking the edges of the room, glowering at our neighbors, and insulting Kitty,” Lydia stated resentfully, though she maintained her intense focus on the blue slipper she was knitting.

“I do beg of you not to even mention that man,” Mary Bennet said coldly. “I will never forgive him for his rudeness to dear Kitty.”

“Does the Lord not call us to forgive others?” Jane asked gently.

Mary flushed a little and sighed, “Of course you are right, Jane. I apologize. Nevertheless, you must admit he is an unpleasant individual. He is gifted with great wealth and good looks and no doubt an excellent education; I expected better from such a man.”

“He is no doubt very proud of his high position and clearly looks down on us country folk,” Elizabeth commented. “But come, girls, let us not dwell on Mr. Darcy. He is at least an interesting entrant into our little society. I encourage you all to welcome him as you would a hippopotamus; interesting, but not particularly adept at interacting with others.”

The comment provoked a gale of laughter and the conversation turned to other things.

////////////////////////////////////////////

Darcy and Bingley swung down from their horses, and together the two men surveyed the southern-most field of Netherfield Park. The day was cool, the wind was mild and the sun shone fiercely in the southeastern sky. To the west, thin wispy clouds decorated the horizon. It was the perfect day to inspect a field, to ride a strong horse, to be with a friend. Even the cavorting spaniel, Maxwell, added to the general air of pleasure and congeniality.

“You made her weep, Darcy,” Bingley suddenly said. “Were you aware of that?”

Darcy’s mood shifted from cheerful to astonished in a moment. His friend’s usually good humored face was creased in a most unusual scowl, and his tone was positively accusatory.

Darcy’s mind cast wildly about for an explanation, “Weep? Whom are you referring to? Miss Bingley?”

Bingley snorted openly, “No, of course not. Caroline does not weep, she berates. No, I am referring to young Miss Catherine Bennet. She overheard your extremely rude remark last night that she was not ‘handsome enough to tempt you’ to dance with her, and she was so upset she cried.”

Darcy stared at his friend incredulously, “One of the younger sisters of your ‘angel’ from last night?”

“Precisely.”

Pemberley’s master glowered at the tradesman’s son, “If she does not wish to hear unkind things, she should not eavesdrop.”

Bingley now looked absolutely furious, “How can you say such a thing, Darcy? I was the one who approached you and began the conversation, not Miss Kitty. She was sitting but ten feet away. It is not _her_ fault that she overheard your very penetrating voice.”

Darcy felt a quick surge of guilt, which he repressed, “I do not believe I was particularly loud, Bingley. In any case, I am certain my slight, if it was a little rude, will not be remembered for long. Nor does it matter – the young lady is hardly a concern to me.”

Bingley’s expression shifted from angry to almost blank, which Darcy found quite unnerving. A long minute passed with only the nickering of the horses and the snuffling of Maxwell, who was sniffing the grasses in search of bird scent.

“What happened to you, Darcy?” Bingley finally asked. “You have never enjoyed company, I know, but you at least have acted the gentleman in the past.”

This startled Darcy considerably. Of course he was a gentleman. Indeed, he was Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, nephew of an earl. He was not a rake or a spendthrift, he was educated at Cambridge, he was the very epitome ...

“Miss Kitty is only a little older than your sister, Miss Darcy,” his friend continued implacably. “How would you feel if she overheard such an insult from a gentleman? Would you be so free to consider it nothing?”

The taller man felt a knife thrust into his heart at these words even as the image of his beloved sister rose in his mind’s eye. His sister Georgiana was shy and sensitive; if she heard a gentleman say such a thing of her, she would be devastated.

Silence fell between them again until Darcy wandered over to a convenient log and lowered himself onto it. Maxwell, apparently sensing his distress, trotted over to gaze at him, his eyes limpid pools of affection.

“You are right, Bingley,” Darcy said heavily, reaching out to absently fondle Maxwell’s floppy red ears. “It was an extremely discourteous speech, and if someone had said such a thing to Georgiana, I would punch him in the face.”

Bingley nodded, mollified, and sat down on the log next to him, “I suppose it is partly my fault for urging you to come to the assembly. I know you do not appreciate such events.”

“I do not,” Darcy replied quietly, “but I did agree to go.”

“Because you did not wish to be alone with my sister,” Bingley pointed out, and then chuckled humorlessly at the look on his friend’s face. “Come, Darcy, I know that Caroline is an irritant and that you would not choose to be alone with her at Netherfield without me or the Hursts as a buffer.”

“That is true enough,” Darcy admitted. He looked across the nearby fencing. A herd of cattle had wandered into sight and were standing in a picturesque group, languorously chewing on their cud.

“Are you all right, Darcy?”

Darcy looked again at Bingley and sighed deeply. He had kept it trapped inside for months, only speaking of his sister’s near catastrophe with Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, his cousin and Georgie’s other guardian. It was a putrefaction in his very soul, the knowledge that his childhood friend, George Wickham, had been so lost to goodness that he had tried to entice his godfather’s daughter into a runaway marriage. Georgiana was only fifteen years of age, and when approached by Wickham at Ramsgate by the sea, had believed herself in love and consented to an elopement. Wickham was seven and twenty years of age, a lecher, a gambler and a spendthrift. The man was truly a villain and yet he could do little against the man or Georgiana’s reputation could be damaged ...

“Georgiana had a great disappointment this year,” Darcy suddenly said impulsively. “A friend of hers whom she trusted broke her tender heart. She is still greatly disturbed, and I feel very helpless and even guilty, for I did not protect her. I confess it has soured my spirits, Bingley. I apologize.”

“Nonsense, Darcy, nonsense!” Bingley cried out. “I know how much you love Miss Darcy, and it is truly a great sorrow when one we love is harmed.”

“I daresay your angel is angry at me over my comment about her sister. What can I do to make it up, Bingley? Or is it too late?”

“Oh, that is simple enough. Dance with Miss Kitty at the next assembly or dance.”

Darcy grimaced, “That seems unwise. I would not care to give the girl any hope of capturing the master of Pemberley.”

His friend groaned aloud, “Darcy, please. You have such an inflated view of your own worth at times! Yes, you are wealthy and well connected, but in our society, a dance is merely a dance, nothing more. Now if you danced with her twice, that would mean more. But if you were to dance with Miss Kitty and a couple of her sisters and with Miss Lucas, perhaps, it would mean nothing in particular to any of them. None of them will think you intend to marry them based on one dance.”

Darcy winced inwardly at the thought of dancing with a multitude of unknown, boring women, but it was, he thought, an appropriate degradation given how poorly he had acted.

“Very well,” he said in a long suffering tone. “I will do it.” 

_/_

_/_

_Author note: Thank you for being so generous and encouraging to me this past year -- writing is hard work, and I couldn't do it without you! I wanted to give you a gift to show my appreciation, so I arranged for my story,_ A Very Meryton Christmas _, to be free for Christmas (Dec 24-25 only). Claim it on your local Amazon marketplace for yourself or send to a friend. I hope you enjoy it._

_[US Amazon link](https://www.amazon.com/Very-Meryton-Christmas-Prejudice-Variation-ebook/dp/B08PKTBQXF/ref=sr_1_116?crid=ANE4G72DXIVK&dchild=1&keywords=pride+and+prejudice+variations&qid=1608054181&s=digital-text&sprefix=pride+and%2Caps%2C242&sr=1-116) _ _[UK Amazon link](https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08PKTBQXF/ref=sr_1_180?crid=J6AONVD1XYCP&dchild=1&keywords=pride+and+prejudice+variations&qid=1608835464&s=digital-text&sprefix=pride+and%2Cdigital-text%2C259&sr=1-180) _ [ _AU Amazon link_ ](https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B08PKTBQXF/ref=sr_1_180?crid=J6AONVD1XYCP&dchild=1&keywords=pride+and+prejudice+variations&qid=1608835464&s=digital-text&sprefix=pride+and%2Cdigital-text%2C259&sr=1-180)

_Merry Christmas!_

_Laraba_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

“Lizzy!”

Elizabeth Bennet looked up, startled that Jane had raised her voice to her. Based on the questioning expression on her sister’s face, it was not the first time the eldest Miss Bennet had addressed her.

“I am so sorry, Jane. I was deep in thought.”

“Obviously!” the other lady replied with a chuckle even as she patted her steed, a fat and placid mare named Buttercup. “What are you thinking of so intently, my dear sister?”

Elizabeth sighed and slightly tightened her grip on the reins of her own mare Daisy. The filly was a beauty with her golden coat and white stockings, but she was also young and strong; it was unwise to be distracted when riding her, as Daisy was quite capable of trying to brush Elizabeth off on a tree or unseat her suddenly.

“I was thinking about Mr. Fowler’s ten acre field, the one that lies adjacent to Longbourn’s southeast edge,” Elizabeth explained. “He approached Mr. Gregory last week and indicated that he would like to sell it as he needs immediate funds. It is a well-watered, fertile field but if we purchase it, funds will be tighter until the next harvest. I am not certain whether it is a good idea or not.”

“But you believe in the long term it will provide good crop yields?”

“Oh yes, without a doubt. There is a tenant family already installed and they are good farmers. The problem is that when Father passes on, Longbourn will be under Mr. Collins’s control. We will maintain possession over that field since it is not under the entail, but it may be challenging to administer from wherever we live. We may well move away from Meryton, after all. You know how hard we are working and scraping and saving so that some money will be available for us when we can no longer live in Longbourn. In some ways, it seems foolish to spend the ready money. In other ways, it seems a marvelous opportunity since the field should provide income for years to come.”

“I had not realized that funds were so limited,” Jane replied in a troubled voice.

“They are not, dear Jane,” Elizabeth said quickly and reassuringly. “You know that we had to build a new home for the Johnsons after the fire, and that set us back somewhat. But of course there was no other viable option.”

“Of course not! Mr. Johnson and his family are excellent tenants and the fire was not their fault.”

“No, it was not. In any case, we have plenty of money available, really, it is just that I need to weigh investment in the land with practicality if Father should pass in the next few years. Well, I will pray for wisdom though I think I am inclined to buy the field, unless you object of course.”

“Dearest Lizzy, you know I do not object. You have a remarkable head for business and have successfully managed our rather leaky financial ship through many shoals these last years. I trust you implicitly.”

“I could not have done it without our steward and Uncle Philips and Uncle Gardiner. Even Father, in his own way, helped prepare me by handing over many of the responsibilities for Longbourn while he and Mother focused on Matthew the last few years.”

Jane sighed deeply, “Yes, it is a comfort to me that truly everything that could be done, was done, for our dear brother.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed quietly. A great deal of money and time and effort had been spent on trying to save Matthew, and none of the family regretted that in the least; it was a painful reality that the best medical knowledge was insufficient to repair the poor boy’s damaged body.

Daisy lifted her head and nickered, her golden eyes fixed on the large building which had just come into view. 

“I am glad that Netherfield finally has an occupant,” Jane said, a little less placidly than usual. “It is delightful to have new friends.”

Elizabeth shot her beloved elder sister a keen glance, though she forbore to tease Jane. She knew that the eldest Miss Bennet was quite attracted to Mr. Bingley and Elizabeth had a vague hope that something might actually come of it. She did not share Jane’s view of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, Mr. Bingley’s sisters. Elizabeth thought them proud and supercilious in their attentions to Jane, but she would be the courteous caller in the hopes of smoothing the romantic way between Jane and Mr. Bingley.

///////////////////////

“Oh, I do love London so very much, Miss Bennet,” Miss Bingley simpered. “Do you not find the company here in Hertfordshire rather unvarying?”

“I enjoy my rare visits to London as well,” Jane said courteously, “but I love my home county too. Yes, there are not nearly as many people with whom we interact, but people change from year to year, and even month to month. Is that not so in the Staffordshire, from where your family hails?”

“I have spent very little time in Staffordshire the last decade,” Miss Bingley stated with a haughty tilt of her chin. “Both Louisa and I were educated in one of the finest seminaries in London, of course, and our brother has a fine home in Town where we reside during the Season. I do not remember seeing you at any of the balls and parties in London, Miss Bennet, though that is, I suppose, no surprise. So many of those delights were an absolute crush of people!”

Jane shook her head, “I did not have a London Season. My father does not enjoy Town and in any case ... in any case, our brother Matthew was very poorly when I was the age to be presented. So no.”

Miss Bingley’s brown eyes widened in surprise, “Your brother? I thought you had only sisters!”

“Our brother Matthew, our sister Lydia’s twin, passed away a little more than six months ago,” Elizabeth interposed quietly. “He was sickly for much of his life, sadly.”

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley exchanged shocked glances and Mrs. Hurst leaned forward, her expression suddenly sympathetic, “My dear Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I am so very sorry. We had a brother named Harold who was born two years after Charles; he was also sickly and we lost him when he was but six years old. It was a great sorrow to us all.”

“Oh Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley,” Jane replied impulsively. “I grieve for you. It is such an agony of the heart to lose a brother.”

“I admit I do not remember him,” Caroline said in a clipped tone. “I was but a small child when he passed on. But I am sorry for you both. Does this mean you are now the heiress to Longbourn, Miss Bennet?”

Jane pulled in a shocked breath at this question and Elizabeth answered courteously, though with glittering eyes, “No. Regrettably, Longbourn is entailed away from the female line. Longbourn will go to a distant cousin.”

“Such a pity,” Caroline commented condescendingly.

////////////////////////////////////

“It appears we have visitors,” Charles Bingley commented, swinging down from his horse and handing the reins to a stable hand.

“Indeed,” Darcy agreed, also dismounting. There were two unknown horses standing in two of the barn’s spacious stalls. One, a fat gray mare, was placidly eating grain. The other, a golden filly, was shifting around energetically in her stall and occasionally kicking a wall, apparently out of a sheer exuberance of spirits.

“Yes, sirs,” the stable hand agreed. “A Miss Bennet and her sister, Miss Elizabeth, arrived thirty minutes ago to visit Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley.”

“Oh!” Bingley cried out excitedly, taking a few steps toward the door just as another servant stepped into the barn.

“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley,” the man said with a slight bow. “The elder two Miss Bennets are departing and wished for their mounts.”

“Come along, Darcy!” Bingley declared. “You have not yet formally met the Miss Bennets, I believe.”

Darcy suppressed a grimace and nodded, “Lead on.”

“We will let our guests know that you are bringing the horses around,” Bingley said cheerfully to one of the servants.

“Yes, sir.” 

///////////////////////////////

“Miss Bennet!” Mr. Bingley cried out as the ladies descended the front stairs of Netherfield. “I am so sorry that I missed your call. Darcy and I were examining a rather muddy field.”

“I understand completely,” Jane replied, her lovely countenance glowing brightly. “I am certain there is much you need to learn about the Netherfield lands.”

“Yes, and I am sadly deficient in understanding since I have never overseen an estate before, so I am most thankful for my friend Darcy, who has administered his own estate of Pemberley for many years now. But come, I must introduce you. Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, my friend Mr. Darcy. Darcy, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth.”

Darcy bowed slightly and forced a slight smile, which faded away as his gaze met that of the younger of the two ladies. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a petite young woman with dark eyes and chestnut curls. Unlike her elder sister, she was not a great beauty but she was, he supposed, quite attractive. Her expression, however, was not particularly welcoming, which he found bewildering. Young women of marriageable age always simpered and smiled before him, but Miss Elizabeth’s admittedly fine eyes were flashing with fire and her lips were in a thin line of disapproval.

Bingley cleared his throat and continued brightly, “I believe the field we just inspected is adjacent to the Longbourn estate on the southeast.”

“Was it the one with the stand of three very tall oak trees in the corner?” Miss Elizabeth inquired, her face gentling as she shifted her attention to Mr. Bingley.

“Yes, it was, Miss Elizabeth!” Bingley cried out. “How clever of you!”

“That field is indeed adjacent to Longbourn land, and the ground there at the border tends to be boggy. We have experimented with growing strawberries and raspberries in that field with some success. Perhaps with time we will be able to have the field drained. I do wish to warn you that the field you inspected will likely be something of a problem.”

Darcy tilted his head and regarded the second Miss Bennet with interest. Her knowledge of anything to do with the land was truly shocking, since very few young ladies had any interest in the fields and workers who supported the family who owned the estate.

“Darcy warned me of the same thing!” Bingley cried out happily. “He said that the field would not be appropriate for most crops. Perhaps we might be able to speak to your father on the matter someday and ask for his advice?”

The two Miss Bennets exchanged hurried glances, then Jane answered smoothly, “My father’s health is rather uncertain but yes, I hope that you can meet with him soon.”

Two servants appeared with the Longbourn horses and Bingley eagerly stepped forward to assist Jane in mounting her mare. 

Elizabeth allowed a servant to help her into her own sidesaddle, whereupon her horse took a few dancing steps. She grabbed the reins and gave Daisy a gentle but admonitory tug.

“Behave, Daisy!” she ordered. The mare shivered under her impatiently but obediently stayed in the same spot.

“She looks like quite a handful, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy commented, speaking for the first time.

He had a rich, deep voice; an attractive one, really. It was pity he was so haughty and proud.

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed politely, adjusting herself in her saddle and keeping her focus on the animal. “She is only three years old and rather strong-willed. She is powerful and carries me many miles with ease, but I cannot afford to be careless with her.”

“You must be quite a horsewoman,” Darcy declared respectfully. His own sister was a competent rider but he was careful to only mount Georgiana on the most gentle of mares.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied formally. “My sisters and I have responsibilities on the estate which require us to visit tenants and the like; thus, we have all learned to ride and ride well.”

“But Elizabeth is the best rider of us all,” Jane commented warmly. “Only she and our youngest sister, Lydia, are brave enough to ride our golden firebrand.”

There were respectful nods from the gentlemen at this statement, and the ladies, with courteous adieus, departed for home.

/

/

_Author note: I hope you all had a good Christmas holiday and are staying well. If you have an Amazon gift card you’re not sure what do with, please consider my P &P variations for sale on Amazon. Do a search on “[Laraba Kendig](https://www.amazon.com/Pride-Prejudice-Variation-4-Book/dp/B08KTX4QV9/ref=sr_1_15?crid=15GWBFXFU4PYF&dchild=1&keywords=laraba+kendig&qid=1609221731&s=digital-text&sprefix=laraba+%2Caps%2C180&sr=1-15)” and you will find them all! :-)_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“Longbourn is entailed away from the female line,” Miss Bingley explained as she stirred a sugar lump into her teacup. “I doubt the estate has an income of more than two thousand pounds a year, and thus there will be little in the way of dowries for all those sisters. I daresay the Bennet women will be quite poor once their father dies now that their only brother is gone.”

“How dreadfully sad that they lost their brother,” Charles mused, his gaze fixed blankly on the darkness beyond the windows in the parlor.

“It is,” Louisa Hurst agreed. “Do you remember when our brother Harold passed away, Charles? Mother wept for months.”

“I believe we all did,” Charles stated mournfully, “except perhaps Caroline, who was too young to understand. Was the death of the Bennet heir unexpected?”

“I believe not,” Louisa declared, taking a sip of her tea. “Miss Bennet says that he was weakly his entire life. He was the twin of the youngest Miss Bennet.”

“I do not believe I have met the youngest Miss Bennet,” Bingley mused.

“She is still but a child of fifteen and not yet out,” Caroline said with a sniff. “Indeed, the fourth daughter, Miss Catherine, is but seventeen and really ought not to be out either. These country folks are quite unaware of the proper time for such things.”

Darcy, who was seated in a quiet corner of the room with a book in his hand, listened to this conversation with growing disquiet and guilt. He too had lost a brother, and two sisters as well, though all his frail siblings had died as infants. Georgiana, born strong and hearty, had been a miracle for the Darcy family as Lady Anne Darcy was not a healthy woman and had struggled mightily with her pregnancies. 

The Bennet women were nothing to him, of course, but to lose both their brother and their security was a terrible blow. He ought not to have insulted Miss Catherine Bennet as he had; he must make it up to her. The problem was how to do it without giving her, or any of the Bennet sisters, hope that one of them might ensnare him as a husband. Bingley meant well, but he did not know what it was like to be the Master of Pemberley, hunted across the land for his wealth, connections, and status.

//////////////////////////

“Father?”

“Yes, Lizzy?” Mr. Bennet inquired. He was on his third glass of wine for the morning and the sorrow and grief and guilt over life in general, and Matthew’s death in particular, had faded somewhat. He hated waking up completely sober but was always quick to rectify that unpleasant state.

“How are you today, Father?”

He gazed at her fondly, his Lizzy. He had always known his second daughter was special; from a very early age, she had been incredibly quick to talk, to walk, to learn. Her considerable beauty came from her mother, but all that intelligence was from her father. He could take pride in that, anyway. He knew he was a coward and a weakling to deposit all the responsibility of Longbourn and her inhabitants on Elizabeth’s slender shoulders, but he could not find it in himself to care. Well, he did care, but not enough to give up the alcohol which allowed him to survive each day without his precious son.

“I am well enough, my dear,” Mr. Bennet said with a welcoming wave. “Come in, Elizabeth. Do you have papers for me to sign today, perhaps?”

Elizabeth took her seat across from her father’s desk and looked around with a mixture of sorrow and pleasure. She had spent hundreds of hours in the library, usually with her father and often with Matthew, whose frail body had not permitted him to run and play like most children. Like Lizzy, Matthew had been a voracious reader, and she would never forget their discussions of _Robinson Crusoe_ , of the poems of Sir Walter Scott, of Shakespeare and the Bible.

“You have a letter from our cousin, Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said finally, gazing directly into her father’s brown eyes.

Mr. Bennet’s face darkened at these words and he took a quick gulp of his glass of wine.

“And what does my esteemed cousin have to say for himself?” he demanded harshly.

Elizabeth bit her lip, “He wishes to visit Longbourn, Father.”

“Does he indeed? Why?”

“He is a clergyman and says that the poor relationship between you and his family is a source of sorrow. He wishes to heal the breach.”

The man’s gray eyebrows rose in surprise, “I confess I am startled, Elizabeth. His father was an illiterate, unpleasant fool. Perhaps the son is more noble than the father?”

“Perhaps,” his daughter declared dryly. “He is at least literate, though I found his letter both tedious and preposterous.”

“In what way, my dear?”

“He seems an absurdity to me, Father. For one thing, he apologizes for being your heir. While there is truth that _we_ suffer because of the entailment, it is not as though he would ever willingly give up his position as heir.”

Mr. Bennet snorted and reached for his wine glass again. If only Matthew had lived! For the thousandth time he wondered if there was something else he could have done to save his boy. Perhaps he should have taken Matthew to Ramsgate one more time ...

“Well, what do you think, Father?” Elizabeth inquired, breaking into his painful thoughts. “Should we allow Mr. Collins to visit?”

The man sighed, “On the one hand, he will probably be a wearisome guest. On the other hand, it would be sensible to mend matters with the man who is my heir. My sense is that he should be permitted to come, but I defer to your judgement, Elizabeth.”

“I agree,” his daughter said with a nod. “Perhaps Mr. Collins is a more sensible man than is apparent in the letter and he _is_ a family connection. Yes, I think we should allow him to come.”

///////////////////////////

Darcy reluctantly detached himself from the wall and followed his friend Bingley toward the opposite side of the room. Bingley had insisted that they attend this evening gathering at Lucas Lodge, the home of Sir William Lucas and his large family. Sir William was a simple soul – friendly, obliging, and not at all sophisticated. The numerous guests included a number of militia officers from a regiment stationed in Meryton along with those who passed for the upper classes in this backward region of England.

Now it was time for him to do his penance, to dance with Miss Catherine Bennet. The hour was growing late and the party would break up soon, sparing him any necessity of dancing with other ladies. 

“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Catherine, might I claim a moment of your time?”

Both Bennet ladies turned toward Mr. Bingley, who looked uneasy.

“Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth replied, curtsying along with her sister.

“May I please introduce my friend, Mr. Darcy, to your sister, Miss Catherine?”

Elizabeth and Kitty turned in surprise toward the tall form of Mr. Darcy. The gentleman had been occupying a corner of the room for the last hour, and Elizabeth had wondered why the man had bothered to come to this dinner party if he was merely going to lurk in the corners of the room. Elizabeth sighed inwardly, but good manners dictated that they respond appropriately.

“Of course. Kitty, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, my sister, Miss Kitty Bennet.”

The tall man bowed, his expression remote, before turning toward Kitty.

“Miss Catherine, might I have the honor of this dance?”

Elizabeth felt her breathing grow rapid as she struggled to calm herself. How dare he approach his sister as if his insult to Kitty had never occurred. The nerve!

A quick glance at her younger sister showed Elizabeth that Kitty was completely overwhelmed at the thought of dancing with the haughty master of Pemberley. Her blue eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, and she was slightly paler than usual.

“I apologize, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth interposed, her tone courteous, her eyes flashing, “but my sister and I were just about to play and sing a duet together. Perhaps another time?”

The man blinked in astonishment but inclined his head, “Another time, yes, Miss Catherine. Thank you.”

Elizabeth grasped Kitty’s arm with her hand and pulled her toward the pianoforte, where Mary was playing a Scottish air. A minute later, the third Miss Bennet finished her piece and vacated the seat without a word.

Kitty, shaking slightly, sat down and rummaged through the music as Elizabeth ran a comforting hand down her back. The girl settled and a minute later, she began playing “The Bonny Bunch of Roses” as Elizabeth lifted her voice in song. She was not a capital singer and did not practice as much as she wished, but she knew she had a fine soprano voice, and her audience, except for the Netherfield party, would be accepting enough. Kitty too, while not exemplary on the pianoforte, was doing an entirely adequate job of playing. Elizabeth was proud of her; it was cruel of Mr. Darcy to tease her by asking her to dance after insulting her so.

Elizabeth cast a quick glance to the edge of the room and was startled to see that Mr. Darcy’s eyes were fixed on her. She lifted her chin and turned slightly toward him, her gaze meeting his with determination. For a moment, the two glared at one another before Elizabeth deliberately turned away toward her sister, who was now playing easily.

Darcy, for his part, found himself gazing with startled fascination at the vibrant face of Miss Elizabeth. What had just happened?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“I confess to being rather surprised at what transpired at Lucas Lodge this evening,” Bingley mused, handing a glass of brandy to his friend. His two sisters and Mr. Hurst, Louisa’s husband, had already retired for the night, but Darcy seemed restless so Bingley had invited him to play a game of billiards.

Darcy carefully lined up his cue and shot before responding, “Was it a surprise? I asked Miss Catherine to dance with me and she was unavailable. Such things have been known to happen.”

Bingley scoffed aloud and took a sip of brandy, “Nonsense, Darcy. It was a snub, and a very elegant one. Miss Mary was playing the pianoforte very happily, and the duet was clearly a mere excuse. I gathered from Miss Bennet’s conversation that Miss Elizabeth is something of a firebrand. Clearly, she did not appreciate your rude speech about Miss Kitty at the assembly and sought to put you in your place.”

Darcy stared at his friend incredulously and shook his head, “Surely not. No country girl, no matter how high spirited, would be foolish enough to deliberately spurn me, Darcy of Pemberley.”

Bingley shook his head, took another careful shot with the cue, and straightened to his full height, “My dear fellow, you will not listen to me, will you? Yes, you are wealthy and well connected, but why should that matter to the inhabitants of Meryton and its environs? The Bennets are the principal family in these parts, and the young ladies, at least, are respected and well liked. It is not surprising that Miss Elizabeth would rebuff you, nor has your haughty demeanor ingratiated you with the other inhabitants of this place. Even your request for a dance was made coldly, and I could see that Miss Kitty was distressed at the very thought of standing up with you.”

Darcy gazed at his friend in amazement before setting aside his cue and wandering over to stare out into the moonlight garden behind the house.

“Am I truly so bad, Bingley?” he asked unhappily

“Darcy, you have been a loyal and faithful friend to me these many years, and I count you a dear companion. I merely am concerned that your demeanor is such that new acquaintances find you unpleasant, even rude, when you are in actuality a very fine fellow.”

Perplexed, Darcy turned around to face his friend, “I confess to bemusement over this entire affair. In London, filled as it is with the cream of society, I am welcomed with open arms. Here, in a rural neighborhood, I am spurned. It is a peculiar experience.”

Bingley shrugged, “Would you prefer that people venerate you for your wealth and connections when your outward character is so forbidding?”

The taller gentleman smiled reluctantly, “It would be far easier, would it not?”

“Life is not always easy, Darcy. I, as the son of a tradesman, have learned to be friendly and obliging whereas you have been accepted because of your pedigree. I daresay this will be a good experience for you.”

/////////////////////////

Elizabeth looked up from her nuncheon with interest as the servant handed Miss Bennet a note.

It is a letter from Miss Bingley!” Jane exclaimed happily, accepting the letter and opening it.

“From Miss Bingley!” Mrs. Bennet cried out in delight. “Do read it aloud, my love!”

Jane lifted her voice obediently.

_My dear Friend,_

_If you are not so compassionate as to dine today with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day’s tete-a-tete between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on the receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers._

_Yours ever, Caroline Bingley_

“How unlucky that the gentlemen will be away,” Mrs. Bennet pouted. “I daresay you will not see Mr. Bingley at all, Jane. Nonetheless, you must go. You and Mr. Bingley’s sisters are becoming very good friends, which is a marvelous step toward marrying the man himself.”

“May I take the carriage, Elizabeth?” Jane inquired eagerly.

Elizabeth nodded slowly, “I believe so. I will have to send a servant to fetch the horses from the farm but yes, by all means.”

“She should go on horseback,” Mrs. Bennet suggested. “That way the workhorses can do all the work on the farm which you deem so important, Lizzy. Did you not say just yesterday that they are very busy at the moment?” 

Jane looked concerned, “Perhaps Mama is right. I can ride Buttercup to Netherfield. Do not send for the horses on my account.”

Elizabeth walked up to the window and peered outside for a long minute before turning around decisively, “No, Jane, I had best call for the horses and the coach. It looks like it is going to rain.”

Mrs. Bennet, who had been attempting to speak in a casual tone, now sprang to her feet, “Yes, it is going to rain and thus Jane must ride! Just think, if it rains she will not be able to return home tonight and thus will see Mr. Bingley after he returns from his dinner with the officers!”

Elizabeth suppressed a frustrated groan, “Mother, there will be plenty of opportunities for Jane to spend time with Mr. Bingley. There is no need to expose her to the dangers of a storm.”

“I insist, Lizzy, absolutely insist that you not send for the carriage! One of you girls must win a wealthy husband before your father is dead! None of you have any compassion for my nerves!”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, quietly exited the room, and sent a servant for the horses and carriage.

////////////////////////////////////

“It is an absolute quagmire out there, Lizzy,” Mary commented, causing her sister to look up from her sewing in surprise. Elizabeth had seen Jane off in the carriage, dealt with estate business, played a game of chess with her only slightly inebriated father, and was now sewing a patch on a petticoat while considering the purchase of the neighboring field. In the midst of what was a typically busy day, she had not noticed how hard and long the rain had fallen. 

Elizabeth congratulated herself once again for sending Jane to Netherfield in the carriage over her mother’s protests – the poor girl would have been dreadfully wet otherwise! It was late afternoon now, and the carriage would have already departed to bring Jane home.

“Miss Elizabeth,” a young maid said tentatively from the door.

“Yes, Emily?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, Miss, but the coachman needs to speak to you at the rear door.”

Elizabeth frowned and, setting her work aside, quickly walked to the back of Longbourn where the coachman, Jack, a middle aged retainer of the family, was waiting with an expression even more lugubrious than usual.

“I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth,” the man said with a hint of accusation in his eye, “but a few minutes ago, the right coach wheel sank in that pool of mud near the front entrance and it broke when we tried to get it out.”

Elizabeth groaned under her breath. Jack had warned her only a week ago that the entrance to Longbourn needed more gravel, but she had foolishly decided to wait to purchase the necessary rocks to solidify the lane. She had thought with winter coming that mud would not be a concern until spring. She had been wrong.

“I apologize, Jack,” she said contritely. “I ought to have authorized funds for that load of gravel as you suggested.”

“I can send one of the boys to Netherfield on horseback leading Buttercup,” Jack proposed, his expression lightening with Elizabeth’s admission of failure. “That way Miss Bennet can return tonight on horseback.”

Elizabeth cast a frowning glance at the sky. It was more misting than raining now, but it might well rain hard again. 

“No, Jack, I fear she might get a thorough wetting. Better to wait until tomorrow when either the coach will be fixed or the weather will have cleared so she can come home safely on horseback. I will write notes to Miss Bingley and Jane to explain the situation, and will have Emily pack some clothes for Jane so that she is comfortable tonight. I hope one of your intrepid boys will not mind a rather wet ride.”

“Of course not, Miss Elizabeth.”

//////////////////////////////////////

Fitzwilliam Darcy opened the gate into the nearby field and then halted to kick his boots against a convenient fencepost. The sun was low in the eastern sky and a hint of dawn painted the horizon pink. The previous day’s rainstorm had left the paths around Netherfield a muddy disaster, and his boots were caked with heavy, wet soil. Nonetheless, he relished this opportunity to stretch his legs, to breathe in the crisp morning air, to think.

Ever since he had been refused a dance with Miss Kitty at Lucas Lodge, his mind kept returning to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. That in itself was bewildering. Miss Jane Bennet was the clear beauty of the family, and was blessed with a charming personality as well. Miss Catherine Bennet was the lady whom he had insulted in public, and thus he was morally required to atone for his unkindness. But Miss Elizabeth was neither the beauty nor the injured party, so why would he care about her?

The truth was that he found Miss Elizabeth Bennet quite a conundrum. That was not a particular surprise – Darcy found many people confusing – but it rarely bothered him. This time, however, he felt a strange distress in his soul. The young lady had snubbed and glared at him, and instead of feeling angry or insulted, he felt unsettled and ashamed.

Why was that? The girl was not especially beautiful, though her fine eyes, brown with tints of gold, were remarkable, and her manners were clearly not those of fashionable society. She was a nobody, the second daughter of a country gentleman of apparently ill health, since Darcy had never met the man in company.

Yet, Darcy found himself thinking of her often, and even pricking up his ears when her name was mentioned in company. He found himself wanting to know more of her, which was completely absurd.

And even if he did throw away the caution of a decade and approach the girl, he might well be rejected, which was a bizarre and incredible thought. According to Bingley, Darcy had been both proud and unpleasant since he arrived here at Netherfield, or at least to those outside the Netherfield party. Darcy had considerable pride in his own acumen and intelligence, but he freely admitted that Bingley was far more adept with social niceties than he was himself.

Could that really be true? In London, he was well received by nobles and gentry alike. But was that because he was an exemplary person, or because everyone knew of his wealth and status?

“What do you think?” Darcy inquired aloud of his companion. “Am I truly obnoxious and overly proud to those outside my circle?”

Maxwell, the red spaniel, had been trotting around happily, nosing this, nudging that, kicking his heels with sheer delight at being on a walk with a fine human male on a misty morning in November. At these words, however, the beast sat down and lifted a soulful gaze to the man, his eyes dewy pools of adoration as he proceeded to pant slowly, his feathery tail wagging slowly back and forth along the ground and accruing a new muddy brown coating.

“You think not?” Darcy inquired, dropping his hand to rub the dog’s ears. “Well, that is a relief, young fellow. I feel certain that your analysis of human behavior is equal to my friend Bingley’s, or perhaps even more reliable.”

Maxwell barked agreeably and wagged his now very dirty tail, slobbering with ardent enthusiasm. 

Darcy laughed and rose to his feet, “Well, I am glad that I have made a friend in you, at any rate. But come, I think we could both use a little more exercise, do you not think?”

Maxwell leaped forward happily at these words and man and dog wandered farther down the trail, growing increasingly wet through the still dripping fronds.

After slogging another half mile or so, Darcy was pleased to come upon the road which ran along the southern edge of Netherfield. He was pleasantly exhausted and wished to return to his room for a bath and a change of clothes.

He smiled to himself and took a few eager strides down the road. There was a sudden rustle across the lane and before Darcy could react, Maxwell lunged in front of him in search of a fragrant bird which had fluttered into smelling distance.

Darcy tripped over the dog, falling hard, and yelped in pain.

////////////////////////////////

Elizabeth Bennet, dressed in a warm pelisse and woolen gown, was enjoying the chill of a sunny November morning when she heard the barking ahead of her on the road. With a frown, she peered down the road intently, revealing a fluffy red dot leaping up and down in the distance.

She spurred Daisy on gently, causing her mare to being trotting. A second later, the rope in her hand, the one guiding Buttercup, jerked backward slightly. Of course Buttercup, being old and lazy, had no desire to move quickly.

“Come, Buttercup,” Elizabeth ordered and to the mare’s credit, Buttercup shifted into a sullen jog.

Two minutes later, the red leaping dot had grown into a long legged puppy who was circling around a gentleman who was sitting up cautiously on the side of the road, a man who was …

“Mr. Darcy?!”

Fitzwilliam Darcy looked up, his brow furrowed, his face slightly pale.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he replied tautly.

Elizabeth gazed down at the man with a mixture of bewilderment and embarrassment. The last time she had met Mr. Darcy, she had given him a set down and while she was not ashamed of her words, she felt a little awkward at meeting him in this way, especially since he was apparently not well.

“Are you injured, sir?”

Darcy shifted a little and winced in pain, “I fear so, yes. Maxwell dashed in front of me in pursuit of a bird and regrettably I tripped over him.”

“Maxwell?” Elizabeth inquired, and then nodded as she carefully swung herself down to the ground. “Oh, the puppy. I am so sorry.”

“At least Maxwell seems all right,” Darcy commented, running a careful hand down the animal’s furry body. “I was afraid I might have lamed him in my fall, as I am a big man to fall on a smallish dog.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose at this remarkable statement. Given Mr. Darcy’s lofty behavior, she would not have expected him to be concerned about the beast responsible, however innocently, for injuring him.

“Is anything broken, Mr. Darcy?” she inquired worriedly, glancing around in search of anyone who might be able to help. Not surprisingly, no one was in sight. It was still early in the morning, and the only reason Elizabeth was on the road was because she desired to whisk Jane away from Netherfield as soon as possible. She would not have it said that Miss Bennet of Longbourn overstayed her welcome!

“I hope it is merely a sprain,” Darcy said, trying to rise to his feet before sinking back with soft moan of pain. “It may be broken, however.”

“I can ride to Netherfield and send help or, if you like, you can attempt to mount Buttercup. She is a placid horse, but I do not know if you are able to climb onto her with your injured leg.”

Darcy looked up at Elizabeth eagerly, “I would like to try, Miss Elizabeth. The ground is uncomfortable and I confess to being wet and cold.”

Elizabeth, noting the gentleman’s pallor and surreptitious shivering, quickly drew Buttercup close to Darcy. Whatever she might feel about the man’s manners, he was injured and in trouble. She must try to get him to safety and warmth as quickly as possible.

“Here, let me assist you to a standing position and then perhaps you can support yourself on Buttercup while you swing your bad leg up?”

Darcy looked worried, “Miss Bennet, I appreciate your offer, but I am a rather heavy man. I would not wish to injure you.”

“Nonsense, sir! I am no porcelain doll; indeed, I am quite strong for my size. You will not be able to rise without my assistance.”

Reluctantly, Darcy accepted the gloved hand of the lady and, with her assistance, rolled painfully to one foot, keeping his injured leg up. Elizabeth urged Buttercup to shift closer still to the wounded man, whereupon Darcy leaned over to grasp the horse’s pommel. After a considerable struggle, which caused a surge of pain in his injured leg, he found himself astride the mare.

“That is much better,” Elizabeth exclaimed, swinging back up to Daisy. “Come, Mr. Darcy, and Maxwell, on to Netherfield!”

/

 _Author note: Be sure to check out my other story that is in progress,_ [The Enigmatic Mr. Collins](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112240/chapters/66204985), _and let me know what you think. :-)_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Darcy tightened his grip on the reins of the sluggish mare under his body and relaxed his left leg. His ankle was throbbing with pain and he was eager to attain the safety of Netherfield Park.

To his right, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was riding her filly with skilled ease. Darcy suppressed a grim chuckle. Of all the people to rescue him from his ridiculous accident, naturally it had to be Miss Elizabeth of Longbourn.

“How is your leg, Mr. Darcy?” she asked suddenly, turning her lovely countenance toward him.

(No, not lovely, surely! Yes, she was moderately attractive indeed, but not lovely! Her eyes were quite incredible but her nose was slightly aquiline and ...)

“It pains me considerably,” Darcy admitted, breaking loose from his thoughts, “but I will be well enough. I must thank you for your assistance. I am surprised that you were out so early in the day, but very grateful.”

“I am glad that I happened upon you as well, Mr. Darcy. I am not generally on the road this early, but one of the wheels of our carriage broke last night in a mud hole and Jane, as I assume you know, had to spend the night at Netherfield. Since the weather has cleared, I decided to ride over with Buttercup so that Jane could return home.”

“Surely a servant could have done that?” Darcy inquired.

Elizabeth turned her head to gaze directly into his face, her expression frigid. Belatedly, the man realized his tone had been critical.

“As it happens, Mr. Darcy, I enjoy riding Daisy on a fine day. The fresh air is most invigorating.”

“I understand completely,” Darcy replied, laboring to suffuse warmth into his tone. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Did you not?” the lady inquired with an arch of her right eyebrow.

Really, this woman was like no other, to challenge him in such a way.

“No, I did not,” he averred, before plunging forward with an apology, “I feel I must apologize, Miss Elizabeth, not just for my tone now, but for insulting your sister Miss Catherine at the assembly in Meryton. It was very poorly done of me.”

Elizabeth, in turn, was completely astonished. An apology? From Mr. Darcy?

“It _was_ poorly done of you,” she responded with a lift of her chin. “Dear Kitty was very distressed.”

Darcy winced openly, “It had nothing at all to do with her, I assure you. I was tired and do not enjoy dancing with strangers. I am quite willing to apologize to her directly if you will allow me.”

Elizabeth considered the injured gentleman with a modicum of warmth. Given how proud he was, this was a handsome offer.

“I will convey your apologies,” she declared. “Kitty is a shy creature and would no doubt be quite as embarrassed at receiving your apology as you would be to offer it.”

He sighed and nodded, “I understand. My own dear sister, Miss Darcy, is the same way.”

“How old is Miss Darcy?”

“She has recently turned sixteen.”

“Oh, then she is very close in age to my youngest sister Lydia ...”

Elizabeth broke off, her gaze fixed on a wooden cart exiting the drive to Netherfield, which turned toward them on the road. Darcy gazed on with curiosity; he had never met the middle aged man, dressed in sober brown garb, who was sitting behind two staid white horses, but he had obviously just left Netherfield Hall.

“Mr. Jones!” Elizabeth called out, causing the man to rein in his horses when he drew abreast to them.

“Miss Elizabeth! How did you get here so quickly? Surely the servant from Netherfield could not have reached Longbourn yet?”

Elizabeth frowned at this, “Of what are you speaking, Mr. Jones? I am here to fetch my sister, who spent the night in Netherfield after our carriage wheel broke in a morass of mud.”

“Oh, I see! Well, I have just returned after seeing Miss Bennet; sadly, she came down with an illness last night, and I was called early this morning to treat her.”

Elizabeth shot an outraged glance at Darcy, who shook his head, “I did not know, Miss Elizabeth. I left Netherfield very early this morning.”

Her face smoothed, and she gave him an apologetic grimace before turning back to the apothecary, “Is Jane very ill?”

“No, no,” the man replied soothingly. “It is merely a cold of some sort, though she ought not to return home yet. She has a fever, a cough and a sore throat, but she is a strong woman. She will be well in time.”

Elizabeth pulled in a deep breath of the fresh November air and forced herself to calm. Jane was not Matthew; her brother’s last illness had begun with a “mere cold”, but he had always been sickly.

“Oh!” she cried suddenly, “I do apologize, Mr. Darcy. I quite forgot. Mr. Darcy, Mr. Jones, the local apothecary. Mr. Jones, Mr. Darcy took a fall on the road and has harmed his ankle. Would you have time to return to Netherfield to inspect his injury?”

Darcy shot her a startled glance. An apothecary was not a physician; would this man truly have anything useful to say about his ankle?

The apothecary’s expression turned from sympathetic to interested, “Did you fall from your horse, Mr. Darcy?”

“No, I tripped over the dog,” he admitted rather shamefacedly, gesturing toward Maxwell, who was nosing happily along the edge of the road, his furry red tail waving with enthusiasm. “Miss Elizabeth fortunately happened along with this mare for her sister, and I took advantage of her offer of a steed so I could return to Netherfield.”

“Such injuries happen all too often,” Jones replied with a chuckle. “I do have time, Mr. Darcy, if you would care to let me inspect your wounded leg. Do you think it broken?”

“I do not know,” Darcy admitted. “I hope it is merely sprained, though I confess it is paining me a great deal.”

“Then come, let us return to Netherfield as quickly as possible,” the apothecary advised.

/////////////////////////////////////

“Oh Jane!” Elizabeth cried out softly, taking in the sight of her sister lying languidly in bed. Not surprisingly, the arrival of an injured Mr. Darcy on horseback had provoked a storm of concern and distress from Miss Bingley and, to a lesser degree, Mrs. Hurst. Elizabeth had been glad to have Mr. Jones cope with Netherfield’s residents while she followed a maid up to the bedchamber where Jane was installed.

“You arrived so quickly,” Jane murmured in a hoarse voice, her eyes drifting toward the window, where the November sun’s slanted rays showed it was still only mid-morning.

Elizabeth sat down and ran a worried hand over her sister’s brow. Thankfully, though Jane was overly warm she was not blazing hot.

“I left early with Buttercup so that I could fetch you home, Jane. We met Mr. Jones on the road outside Netherfield after he ministered to you.”

“We?” Jane croaked in a puzzled tone, her fetching eyes partially closed with fatigue.

“Oh, I met Mr. Darcy on the way,” Elizabeth explained nonchalantly, “He had an accident while walking and injured his leg, so he mounted Buttercup and we all came here. Mr. Jones is downstairs examining Mr. Darcy’s ankle.”

“Oh, poor Mr. Darcy!” Jane murmured with her usual sympathy. “I do hope it is not broken.”

“So do I, my dear. In the meantime, we must consider what is to be done with you. Are you well enough to return home by carriage?”

Jane looked, and felt, unsure, “I feel very poorly, to be truthful, but I suppose I would be well enough. But is the carriage wheel repaired?”

“It is not,” her sister admitted. “I daresay Mr. Bingley would be willing to lend us his carriage, but if you are not well enough to be moved, then we will stay here.”

“Oh, I suppose I will not come to much harm if …”

Jane broke off her statement with a cough, which led to further coughing, until Elizabeth hastily poured a cup of water from a nearby pitcher and held the cup to her sister’s lips. Jane took a hasty sip and put a hand up on her heaving bosom. That hurt!

“Oh Jane, of course you must stay here,” Elizabeth exclaimed in an apologetic tone. “You are clearly not well enough to go home yet.”

The eldest Miss Bennet opened her mouth, only to close it as Elizabeth waved a furious finger at her.

“No, do not talk. I know that kind of cough is exacerbated by speaking. There is no reason for us to go, really; I just do not wish for Miss Bingley to think we are overstaying our welcome.”

Jane frowned in bewilderment at this, though she did not speak. Lizzy was right; talking would only make her chest and throat feel worse.

“I know you consider her a friend,” Elizabeth continued softly, “but it is clear to me that she rather despises us. I also suspect that Mr. Darcy’s injury will be the main focus of everyone’s attentions. But do not worry, dear one. Mr. Bingley is a pleasant host, and we will manage.”

Jane grimaced. She well knew that everyone depended on Elizabeth, who was the only one able to manage their father, who kept her slender fingers on every aspect of the well-being of Longbourn and her inhabitants.

She took another sip of water, and spoke cautiously, “You must go home now, Lizzy. I will be well here.”

“No, I will not. I can send instructions home with a servant, and Mary can give orders for meals if Mother is not able to do so. I will not leave you here alone, especially now when everyone is doubtless in a tizzy over Mr. Darcy’s leg.”

Jane smiled sleepily at her dear Elizabeth, too tired to protest. Indeed, she did not care to be alone here in an unfamiliar house while she felt so weary and ill. She was too exhausted to berate herself much, but she had been feeling slightly unwell yesterday. It had been foolish to come to Netherfield, but she hoped to strengthen her friendship with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, who were the sisters of Charles Bingley, whom she admired very much indeed …

Jane leaned back on her pillow, vaguely aware of Elizabeth pulling her blankets up to her chin with a firm hand. A minute later, she had drifted off to sleep.

///////////////////////////

Darcy’s concerns over Mr. Jones’s competence had died a quick and relieved death. The man was clearly very experienced and knowledgeable about human anatomy; Jones had assisted in carefully removing his left boot and sock (a most unpleasant and painful experience) and then had regarded Darcy’s naked foot for a long minute before placing his gloved hands carefully on the offending limb.

The subsequent examination was extremely uncomfortable, but Darcy knew from the careful movements and creased brow that Mr. Jones was doing his best to be gentle while also thorough.

When the apothecary was finished, he leaned back in his chair and gazed at Darcy, who was seated on a couch in the drawing room with his injured leg on a comfortable, if rather garish, red floral-patterned stool.

“I believe, Mr. Darcy, that you either have suffered a significant sprain, or you have broken a small bone in your ankle, or both.”

Darcy groaned dismally in spite of himself. A broken bone? How could he have been so stupid as to trip over a dog and break his ankle!

“Now do not despair, sir,” the man said reassuringly. “I do not believe it is misplaced in any way if it is broken, and will heal naturally enough in about six weeks. If it is merely sprained, it will heal more quickly.”

Darcy groaned again. The thought of being off his foot for more than a month was a horrifying one.

“You say it might well not be broken?” he inquired rather pathetically.

Jones gazed down at the ankle, which, now freed from the boot, was swelling larger by the minute and turning a series of exciting colors ranging from dark gray to purple; “If you have not broken it, you have sprained it severely, Mr. Darcy. I am going to wrap your foot carefully, and I strongly advise that you stay off of it. You are, of course, welcome to summon your private physician from London. I would understand that completely. But I recommend that for now, you do not put any weight on it as you might damage it more.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” Darcy replied, reaching up his hand to grip the other man’s. “I appreciate your treatment and your counsel.”

In truth, the very thought of moving his ankle was unnerving; the pain, even when he held himself motionless, was annoying but not terrible. When he did move, well ...

“You are quite welcome, Mr. Darcy. Please do summon me if you wish me to check the foot again, though I would recommend waiting at least two days to see how the swelling is going down.”

/

_Author note: For those reading my other story,_ The Enigmatic Mr. Collins _, please be aware that I have not posted the last chapter yet. I did delete chapters out of the middle to avoid going over Amazon's rule on how much of a story can be available elsewhere as I have started the publishing process. It looks weird when I do that because FanFiction changes the chapter names ... Watch for the last chapter of that story to be posted early on 1/28/21._

/

_Author Note: We know, of course, that “getting a thorough wetting” in the rain does not give you an illness within a few hours. I am therefore having Jane get sick even though she took the carriage instead of going on horseback and getting drenched, which is what happened in the original Pride and Prejudice._


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

“And now Miss Bennet is ensconced in one of our guest rooms, having conveniently fallen sick,” Miss Bingley said in an irritated tone. 

“Caroline, that is an appalling thing to say,” Bingley responded severely. “Mr. Jones says that she is quite ill; it is not her fault she came down with an illness.”

“While I would not desire illness for anyone,” Darcy commented, his eyes on his now carefully wrapped foot, “I am thankful that Miss Elizabeth happened to be on the road at the time of my accident. If she had not come along when she did, I would probably have lain there for quite some time.”

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, that is a truly dreadful thought,” Caroline Bingley exclaimed. “You must be careful to stay warm and rest yourself, so that you too do not take a chill. If there is anything I can do for you, you must tell me.”

“I am a robust man, so I daresay I will be well enough,” the gentleman responded courteously, “but thank you.”

“Miss Elizabeth, how is your sister?” Mr. Bingley asked, his eyes on the drawing room door where Elizabeth had suddenly appeared.

Darcy made as if to rise and then slumped back in his seat feeling ridiculously uncomfortable. Gentlemen rose in the presence of a lady, but he could not.

“My sister is quite poorly, I am afraid,” Elizabeth explained, her expression troubled, “but I hope that she will be better in the morning. I must take my leave before it grows darker, but I wished to thank you for your care for her. I will return tomorrow morning.”

“Please, Miss Elizabeth, can you not spend the night?” Mr. Bingley inquired with concern. “I am certain Miss Bennet would appreciate having her sister with her during her illness.”

The girl looked uncertain, glancing at Miss Bingley, who immediately, if not very enthusiastically, repeated her brother’s offer.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth responded, her cheeks pinking in relief. “I would very much like to stay with Jane.”

“We can send a servant to Longbourn for some clothes,” Mrs. Hurst suggested.

“Again, thank you,” Elizabeth said gratefully. “Might I have some paper to write a note to explain the situation?”

“Of course,” Bingley stated heartily. “I hope you will find paper and a decent pen on that desk in the corner. If not, some can be fetched for you.”

“I used that desk only yesterday to write a letter to my solicitor in London,” declared Darcy, “so you should have everything you need.”

Elizabeth nodded and sat down to write a note to her family. There was no harm in her being gone from Longbourn overnight, but she wished to encourage Mary of her own abilities; the girl was uneasy about managing her mother without Jane and Elizabeth’s steady presences. As for Mr. Bennet, he was probably thoroughly drunk by now, and his valet could cope with him well enough.

“Mr. Darcy, I do hope you intend to call for a London physician to treat you,” Miss Bingley said suddenly. “I hardly think you can trust a mere apothecary regarding an injury of this kind.”

“Mr. Jones has been physicking the occupants of Meryton for decades,” Elizabeth commented mildly. “He is reputed to be quite knowledgeable.”

“My sister means no disrespect, I am certain,” Bingley interpolated with a fierce glance at his sister. 

“I was impressed with his understanding and skill,” Darcy commented. “I see no reason to call for my London physician yet, at any rate.”

“I do hope you are not in too much pain, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley purred, her voice oozing with sympathy.

“It feels much better now that it is wrapped up,” he assured her in a reserved tone, “though of course it is exceedingly tiresome to be laid up such that I cannot walk without help. I suppose I deserve some discomfort for being so foolish as to fall over a dog!”  
  


“That is hardly your fault, sir! It is the fault of that wretched animal.”

“It _is_ my fault, Miss Bingley. Maxwell is young, enthusiastic, and not yet trained. His God given instincts incite him to seek out birds, and it was my responsibility to keep my eyes on him. I am merely glad that in my clumsy collapse, I did not harm your spaniel, Bingley.”

Elizabeth was once again struck by Mr. Darcy’s kindness toward the puppy that had caused him such pain; was the gentleman one of those odd people who found it easier to deal with animals than people, perhaps?

A thought occurred to her, and she turned back to her letter to inscribe a post script before sealing it with wax and handing it to a manservant to take to Longbourn.

/////////////////////////////////

Jane, who had been tossing and turning wretchedly much of the day, finally fell into a peaceful sleep at about five in the afternoon. Elizabeth dressed herself carefully and sallied downstairs for dinner with a mixture of curiosity and discomfort; she liked Mr. Bingley quite well, but Mr. Darcy was still a cipher and Mr. Bingley’s sisters were haughty. The last member of the household, Mr. Hurst, was a portly man who was more interested in eating than talking.

She arrived at the dining room just in time to observe Mr. Darcy being helped along by two strong footmen. His face was scrunched, and he suppressed a groan of pain when his ankle was jolted carelessly. Miss Bingley, who was hovering, screeched in outrage at the servants, though it was hard to see how they could prevent such a thing when they were both several inches shorter than Mr. Darcy, who was one of the taller men Elizabeth had met.

“It is quite all right, Miss Bingley,” Darcy insisted once he had been settled in the chair at the head of the table. “I am quite a substantial person after all and carrying me is a difficult business. Thank you, you may go.”

The servants nodded in some relief and retreated, obviously eager to escape Miss Bingley’s vituperative tongue. Elizabeth, in turn, was surprised and pleased at Darcy’s kindness to the servants. It was peculiar how such a man could insult a young gentlewoman like Kitty Bennet, and yet be so gracious to underlings.

Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley and Mr. Hurst entered in her wake and settled at the dining room table. Elizabeth found herself sitting with Mr. Bingley on one side and Mr. Hurst on the other, which provided her at least one pleasant conversational partner. The food, too, was excellent, and while Elizabeth was not impressed with the ragout, she ate heartily of the beef roast and potatoes.

“Please, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Bingley inquired courteously, “will you not tell me where you acquired your filly, Daisy? I was just out in the stables checking on the horses and had an opportunity to study her. She is a fine beast with nearly perfect symmetry. Did your father purchase her in London?”

“No, Daisy was actually paid as part of the rent for one of our tenant farmers. I agree she is a surprisingly impressive horse given her antecedents, but the farmers in question have been quite successful in breeding vigorous horses for generations, although not on a large scale, of course.”

“I am surprised your father permits you to ride such a steed, Miss Elizabeth,” Miss Bingley commented with false concern. “I understand she is very strong and rather unruly. I do not ride myself, but I believe Mr. Darcy’s sister, Miss Darcy, always mounts gentle and refined mares.”

This was said with a coquettish glance toward Mr. Darcy, who had been silently eating his way through his meal. In the past, Elizabeth would have assumed that the gentleman was merely being taciturn and distant, but based on the crease between Mr. Darcy’s brows, she rather thought that he was in pain from his injured leg.

“Miss Darcy would not be able to ride Daisy,” he agreed, spearing Miss Bingley with his glance, “but then she is not a very strong rider. I am impressed with your horsemanship, Miss Bennet.”

“Thank you, sir,” Elizabeth replied, unable to prevent a blush of pleasure from rising in her cheeks. “I confess that until a few years ago, I preferred walking to riding, but of course it is difficult to go long distances on foot.”

“I am surprised that there are places of such renown in Hertfordshire that you feel the need to go long distances, Miss Elizabeth,” Miss Bingley continued, “though I suppose you find much enjoyment in Meryton. After all, since you do not visit London, you must consider it quite the metropolis!”

“I do visit Meryton quite often,” Elizabeth agreed steadily, “but I primarily ride Daisy to visit the tenants.”

“Is that not the purview of your steward?” Mrs. Hurst asked with disdain.

Elizabeth shrugged, “Mr. Gregory is an excellent steward, but he is quite busy enough without visiting the tenantry on a frequent basis. Longbourn is not a large estate, but there are enough shareholders that they need oversight and assistance on occasion, and my father’s health, regrettably, is not good. Thus, those tasks fall to my sisters and me.”

“I understand,” Mr. Darcy said suddenly, his deep voice sympathetic. “My own dear father was quite ill the last few years of my life, and I was forced to take on new responsibilities for Pemberley. It is, as you say, important to provide oversight and succor as needed for those under our care.”

“And of course you did a marvelous job, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley gushed aloud. “Pemberley is the most magnificent estate I have ever seen, and you are an excellent steward of her lands and bounty.”

Elizabeth gazed at the man with renewed interest. Many gentlemen spent little time or energy overseeing their estates; indeed, many sought only to wrest as much money from the land as possible, with no compassion or concern for the men and women who depended on the soil for their livelihood. Even allowing for Miss Bingley’s exaggeration, it appeared that Mr. Darcy was more noble than many a landlord. 

“Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley cooed, “I have been thinking about your injury and am concerned that your rooms are on the upper level. It would be dreadful if you were to fall on the stairs! It would be no trouble at all for my servants to prepare a bed in the south parlor. It is well heated and conveniently situated.”

Darcy finished swallowing a bite of food and shook his head uncomfortably, “I assure you, Miss Bingley, there is no need to move me into one of the rooms on the main floor. I would not wish to put you out in such a way.”

“If I may say, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth interposed, “I believe Miss Bingley’s suggestion is an excellent one. My own father was thrown from a horse some years back and broke his leg. He moved into a room on the main floor, and it made life far more pleasant for everyone. It is no easy thing to go up and down stairs with an injury such as yours.”

Miss Bingley shot Elizabeth an incredulous look, obviously amazed at her support, before turning her attention back to her prey, “Yes, please do let me give the order!”

Darcy shot Elizabeth an indignant glance and then sighed, “Very well, Miss Bingley.”

Elizabeth suppressed a smile. With any luck, the household would be in such a flurry this evening that she could safely hide in Jane’s bedroom without interacting further with the residents of Netherfield.

//////////////////

“Are you well, Lizzy?” Jane murmured.

Elizabeth leaned over to kiss her sister’s forehead, which, while still feverish, was not any warmer than before dinner. 

“I am the one who needs to ask you that question,” she returned in a playful tone.

“I am tired and aching but I am no worse,” Jane murmured. “But come, Lizzy, I know that you find most of the company difficult. I hope dinner was not unpleasant?”

“Not at all. Mr. Bingley is the consummate host, and we had an interesting discussion. Miss Bingley is so focused on Mr. Darcy’s injury that she spent very little time bothering with me.”

“How is Mr. Darcy?”

“His ankle is either broken or sprained, and he has it wrapped up.”

“Poor Mr. Darcy.”

“Yes, poor Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth responded playfully. “How difficult to have an injured leg and also be rich and handsome and owner of a vast estate in Derbyshire worth 10,000 pounds a year in income.”

Her gentle sister slapped her gently on the arm, “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Elizabeth said fondly. “You are sympathetic to all those who are suffering, and I love you for it. But for now, please rest. The sooner you recover, the better. I borrowed Shakespeare from Mr. Bingley’s frankly anemic library, and I would be glad to read you some sonnets.”

Jane nodded and closed her eyes.

“Sonnet 25:

_Let those who are in favour with their stars_ _  
Of public honour and proud titles boast,  
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars  
Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most.  
Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread  
But as the marigold at the sun’s eye,  
And in themselves their pride lies buried,  
For at a frown they in their glory die.  
The painful warrior famoused for fight,  
After a thousand victories once foiled,  
Is from the book of honour razed quite,  
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled:  
Then happy I, that love and am beloved,  
Where I may not remove nor be removed.”_

Elizabeth looked up from the book and was surprised to discover the Jane was already asleep. Her poor sister was most fatigued indeed.

She tilted her head to focus on the sounds emanating from the corridor. She could hear the sound of feet and Miss Bingley’s shrill voice instructing the servants. Given the uproar, she could safely sit here next to her dear sister and read Shakespearean sonnets instead of going downstairs to mingle with the inhabitants of Netherfield. What a delight.

/

_/_

_Author note: I have just one P &P story I’m writing for now ... but I have a new idea I’m chewing on. I think it’s going to be a fun one ... For now I should start making faster progress on Longbourn Inheritance. Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. I read every comment, and they really do help me stay motivated to write. So again, thank you!_


	10. Chapter 10

##  _Chapter 10_

“Miss Elizabeth, a manservant from Longbourn is here,” a maid informed Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, who had been wiping Jane’s hot forehead with a cool cloth, nodded, “Thank you. I will be along in just a moment.”

She was relieved that Jane was slightly better this morning. Her fever, while it had not broken, was lower and Jane had slept more peacefully. 

Elizabeth kissed her sister on the cheek and followed the maid down the stairs, through a hall and out a side door where Peter, one of Longbourn’s stable boys, was standing with his white gelding’s reins in one hand and a letter in the other.

“Good morning, Peter,” Elizabeth said cheerfully. “Thank you for coming so early in the morning.”

“Always my pleasure, Miss,” the boy returned with a shy bob of the head, “Miss Mary sent this letter for you, and the crutches are on Columbine here.”

Elizabeth carefully tucked the letter safely in one of her long sleeves and together, she and Peter removed the crutches from Columbine, being careful not to bash the poor horse in the head in the process.

“Thank you, Peter. Can you tell me if the carriage wheel is fixed yet?”

“No, Miss, I am afraid not. The bad roads from the rain meant that several carriages broke down and the wheelwright is quite busy.”

“Very well, please tell the coachman that I would like to know as soon as the carriage is repaired. Also, can you please lead Buttercup back to Longbourn? Miss Bennet will not be well enough to ride by horseback to Longbourn in the near future; she will need to return by carriage.”

“Of course, Miss.”

Elizabeth turned away from the boy and entered Netherfield Hall with the crutches held carefully under her right arm. In retrospect, perhaps it had been foolish to ask Mary to send along the crutches, which her father had used several years ago when he broke his leg. Mr. Darcy might consider it rather forward of her. But the poor man was very limited in his movements, and that provoked a surge of compassion. 

To her relief, Mr. Darcy’s valet, a middle aged man of medium height and lugubrious demeanor, was in the hall next to the back parlor which was now Mr. Darcy’s temporary bedchamber.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?” the man inquired, his expression doubtful. No doubt the man was quite accustomed to women trying to attain Mr. Darcy’s attentions by fair means or foul.

“My father sent these crutches to Mr. Darcy,” she explained slightly mendaciously, “he broke his leg several years ago and had these made so that he was able to move around more easily. I hope you do not think it forward of our family, but we wish to offer their use to Mr. Darcy until he is back on his feet.”

The valet’s expression shifted from suspicious to something akin to pleased, and he reached for the crutches with enthusiasm, “Thank you, Miss …”

“Elizabeth Bennet,” she explained. “My sister Miss Jane Bennet fell ill two nights ago, and I am staying here to care for her.”

“Of course, Miss Elizabeth. Thank you very much.”

/////////////////////////////////////

“What are those?” Darcy demanded in a puzzled manner.

“They are crutches, sir,” his valet responded, holding them vertically. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet gave them to me but a few moments ago and explained that her father, Mr. Bennet, used them when he broke a leg some years ago. She offered them for your use, sir, if you would care to try them.”

Fitzwilliam Darcy gazed upon the simple wooden instruments with what he wryly admitted was pathetic hopefulness. He absolutely hated being crippled like this, forced to hop a few feet from chair to bed to chair again, and requiring assistance from footmen to traverse the distance to the dining room and sitting room. Worse yet, his valet, fortunately a strong man, had to assist him for his more private needs. It was entirely generous of Miss Elizabeth, who did not care much for him, to arrange for the loan of crutches.

“I would like to try them, very much,” he breathed. Together, gentleman and servant fussed around with the crutches for a few minutes until Darcy found himself standing with his right leg down and left leg lifted carefully up, while his hands grasping the horizontal grips halfway down the crutches. It felt odd and the upper spars tended to dig into his side, but he was able to traverse the floor by himself.

After the last day, it represented quite glorious freedom.

/////////////////////////////////////

“I think one more day, Miss Bennet, and if you continue to improve, you will be safe to return home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” Jane replied with a grateful smile.

“Yes, thank you,” Elizabeth agreed.

“Now mind you, Miss Elizabeth, if you do carry her home on the morrow, make sure she is well wrapped up.”

“We will wrap everything from head to toe,” Elizabeth assured the man, provoking a soft chuckle from her sister.

“Well, I must be going as I have another patient to attend to here. Good afternoon to you both.”

Jane waited until the door shut behind the apothecary before turning a sleepy face to her beloved sister, “Go home, Lizzy.”

“I hate to leave you, Jane. Our hostess seems far too focused on her male guest to provide you with much company.”

“And I have little desire for company, as I am quite content to sleep. Do return to Longbourn, I beg you. Poor Mary is probably quite fatigued without your steadying presence.”

“Very well, Jane, though I confess it is a great sacrifice on my part. I had time to read fifteen sonnets last night along with the first Act of Macbeth. I will not have such an opportunity at home.”

Jane chuckled again and her eyes closed, “I will see you tomorrow about noon, Lizzy.”

/////////////////////////////////////

“Well, the swelling has gone down a little,” Mr. Jones murmured, his hands gently shifting Darcy’s injured right ankle. Darcy sucked in a pained gasp from the movement, and the apothecary grimaced apologetically.

“My apologies, Mr. Darcy. Well, I am hopeful it is merely a severe sprain but you must not walk on it.”

“But I can use the crutches?”

“Oh yes, sir, definitely. I remember those crutches quite well; Mr. Bennet had them made some years ago after a fall from a horse. I am certain they are not particularly comfortable, but far better to use them to be entirely trapped in one place.”

“Far, far better,” Darcy returned fervently, and both men chuckled.

/////////////////////////////////////

“Thank the Lord you are here, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed as Lizzy stepped through the side door of Longbourn. She had left Daisy in the stables and had hoped for at least a few moments to refresh herself before coping with estate business, but obviously that was not to be.

“What is wrong, Mother?” 

“Your father is having ... a bad day, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth’s lips tightened at these words, and her eyes flew to Hill, who fulfilled the role of butler and valet of Longbourn. The man had a red mark across his forehead and Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears, “Oh Hill, no!”

“It is quite all right, Miss Elizabeth,” the man declared resolutely. “I knew the master was unwell, and I failed to duck in time. It was only a book.”

Elizabeth turned to her mother, “I will go speak with him.”

“Do, Lizzy, do! You simply cannot run off like this again! You know your father listens to you better than anyone else!”

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and squared her slender shoulders, “Very well. Hill, can you send in some tea in about ten minutes?”

“Yes, Miss.”

When she quietly opened the door to the library, she found her father seated in the chair near the fire, his head leaning wearily on his right hand. The floor of the room was covered with books, and she observed shattered glass in the fireplace, no doubt from a wine goblet.

For a moment, the tableau held and then the master of Longbourn lifted a woebegone face to his second child.

“Lizzy.”

She relaxed a little and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. She knew, based on bitter experience, that the worst of the storm had passed. Her father’s rages were thankfully both rare and short lived, though they left a miasma of fear and sorrow in their wake which generally lasted for days.

“It is my fault Matthew is dead. My fault, Lizzy. I should have taken him to London when he was so ill in his last days.”

Elizabeth pulled over the desk chair and sank down into it, reaching out her slender hands to grasp the shaking hands of her father, “You and Mother did everything you could for our brother. You know that at the end, all he wanted was to be left in peace, surrounded by our love. It is not your fault, Father.”

Tears trickled down her father’s grizzled face, “I must have sinned against God in some truly vile way, Lizzy. He took not just my son, but my legacy. He took away the security of my daughters. What did I do that I am punished so severely?”

“That is a false belief, Mr. Bennet.”

Father and daughter looked up in surprise and Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief, “Oh, Mr. Allen! Good evening.”

The clergyman smiled back at her and held out an aged hand, “Miss Mary sent me a message asking if I could visit, and here I am. Mr. Bennet, might I speak to you on the gracious kindness of God even through great sorrow?”

The broken man nodded and Elizabeth stood up with alacrity. Mr. Allen took her place, and as Elizabeth crept out of the room, she heard him say, “My dear sir, we do not know why great sorrows occur, but we live in a broken world. Think of Job, who lost children and riches in ...”

Elizabeth shut the door quietly behind her and stood in the silent hall for a moment, tears of sorrow and compassion running down her face.

/

Author note: I did finish my novel, _The Enigmatic Mr. Collins_ , with various tweaks, additions and a nice long Epilogue. It is [now available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08V4VWX73/ref=sr_1_16?crid=1TNX04JKQCVK2&dchild=1&keywords=pride+and+prejudice+variations). Please check it out. *smile*


	11. Chapter 11

## Chapter 11

Fitzwilliam Darcy shifted his left leg cautiously, and was rewarded when the slight ache in his ankle faded away. His companion, who was nosing around on the grass, trotted over and laid a sympathetic head on Darcy’s right leg.

“I quite agreed, Maxwell,” the man commented, patting the furry head. “A damaged ankle is most annoying. On the other hand, I am delighted to have the pleasure of your company this fine November day.”

Maxwell huffed in satisfaction at these words and, his patience for sitting still quite exhausted, ran off to investigate the garden.

It _was_ a lovely morning, cool but not frigid, and Darcy was thankful for the bench which faced the wilderness behind Netherfield. He guessed, based on the forlorn rose bushes fighting for survival among a riotous coterie of blue blossom plants, that this had once been a formal garden; years of neglect had allowed the ground cover plants to run wild.

He did not mind, really. He had always preferred natural landscaping to excessive formality. There was a crunch nearby, and he turned in alarm. Miss Bingley was not fond of the outdoors, but she was so determined to hover over him, talking incessantly, that she might have overcome her natural inclination for a warm seat by the fire.

But no, it was not Miss Bingley, but the apothecary walking from the stables toward the manse.

“Mr. Jones, good morning.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I see it is still morning, though barely. I am later than I intended, but the blacksmith’s apprentice needed a burned hand treated. How is your ankle?”

Darcy shrugged, “It aches, of course, but so long as I stay off of it, I am well enough.

“That is excellent news. Well, I must see Miss Bennet and decide whether she is well enough to return home, though I believe it should be safe by now. Good day.”

“Good day,” Darcy returned with a courteous nod.

Not two minutes later, a carriage drove sedately into the main drive and disgorged Miss Elizabeth, who, after a few words with the coachman, took a few steps towards the house.

“Miss Elizabeth!” Darcy greeted her, and then closed his mouth in shocked amazement. What was he doing, calling this young woman to his crippled side? He must be mad to encourage the girl in any way!

“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth responded, taking a few steps closer to the man on the bench. “Good day, sir. How are you today?”

“I am very well,” Darcy responded uncomfortably, “I, er, wished to thank your father for the loan of the crutches.”

“You are entirely welcome, Mr. Darcy. And good morning, Maxwell!”

The puppy, enthused at the arrival of a person who actually deigned to move around instead of sitting dully on a bench, snuffled around her boots and then tried to paw her skirt.

“No, no, dear boy,” the girl protested in amusement. “I have no desire for you to muddy my clothing. Mr. Darcy, if you will excuse me, I must see if my sister is ready to return home.”

“Mr. Jones arrived only a few minutes ago, Miss Elizabeth. He said that he was delayed by the needs of the blacksmith’s apprentice, who burned his hand.”

Elizabeth groaned softly and shook her head, “Poor Edwin. He has a willing heart and a strong back, but he is also ungainly at times. This is not the first time he has sustained burns.”

Darcy was aware, once again, of a profound sense of surprise. This woman, who should be focused entirely on assemblies and dancing with perhaps a vague side interest in the harp, was very knowledgeable about the individuals in the little town which she called home.

“What do you think of the formal garden here at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy?” the woman inquired with an amused quirk of her lips, walking still closer to him. 

He shook his head slightly and gazed back at the tangled vegetation, “It is not very formal any more, is it? It has been sadly neglected, though I daresay Bingley will have his gardeners take it in hand after the New Year.”

“I confess I prefer the current wilderness to the gardens at their supposed height of perfection,” Elizabeth commented, her eyes on the tangle of roses. “I have never been fond of extremely formal gardens.”

Once again, Darcy struggled to conceal his surprise. Young women of marriageable age always angled their answers to agree with his own. Always.

“Surely you do not believe that Nature should be allowed to run riot!” he responded, his tone disapproving.

She turned an arch look upon him, “In the matter of fields and weeds, of course not. But if I were to choose between gardens where nary a bloom or twig is permitted to be out of place, and a riot like this, I prefer the riot. Of course, preferable to both is a well-tended garden where flowers and trees blend naturally into the existing landscape, but it is, I suppose, a difficult thing to manage.”

“And what of Longbourn?” Darcy inquired curiously. “Has your mother managed it there?”

Elizabeth laughed, and the gentleman’s heart thudded strangely in his chest at the sight of her vibrant eyes and glowing countenance, “Where do you think I learned to dislike strict formality, Mr. Darcy? We do have a pleasant wilderness in the back, but the main garden is very formal. But what of Pemberley, sir? I am certain her gardens are remarkable.”

He felt himself flush with pleasure at these words and smiled, which lit up his face in a way that quite amazed the lady.

“Pemberley’s gardens _are_ glorious, Miss Bennet, and my mother, who designed them many years ago, was in agreement that it is better to work with Nature than to beat Nature into submission. My aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, used to be quite distressed at Pemberley’s gardens; like Mrs. Bennet, my aunt prefers her flowers to adhere meekly to their prescribed places.”

“Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Kent?” Elizabeth inquired in surprise.

“Yes?”

“That is rather an extraordinary coincidence, Mr. Darcy. Our distant cousin, a Mr. Collins, is Lady Catherine’s rector at the parsonage in Hunsford.”

Darcy struggled to keep from grimacing. He knew that his aunt’s underlings and dependents were universally tiresome, “That is a surprise indeed. Have you ever had the opportunity to visit him?”

“Oh no, we have never met him before. His father and mine were not on good terms, and he is visiting us for the first time in a few days.”

“How very pleasant for you,” Darcy returned, trying to infuse warmth into his tone.

Based on the curious look on the lady’s face, he was not sure he succeeded, but to his relief a servant approached with the news that Miss Bennet was ready to return home.

“I wish you well as your health returns, Mr. Darcy.”

“Thank you.” 

“Good day,” the girl responded, curtseying politely and then stooping to give Maxwell a pat on the head.

Fitzwilliam Darcy found his eyes following her as she entered the main door to Longbourn. That was, in itself, not too surprising perhaps. After all, hers was the only moving figure in view save for the dog. Perhaps of greater surprise was that some fifteen minutes later, he was still watching the front door when Miss Bennet and her sister walked out of the mansion with Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley behind them. There were a few murmured words, notably between Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley, and then the carriage started up and the Bennet sisters were gone.

Darcy had a strange feeling in his chest as he watched the carriage disappear around the corner. A moment later, he realized to his startled astonishment, that the emotion was one of disappointment.

/

“Do you have any brothers or sisters, Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth asked, inserting herself desperately into their guest’s near monologue.

It was Monday and Jane had returned home two days previously. To everyone’s relief, the eldest Miss Bennet was nearly fully recovered from her illness, though she occasionally coughed and sneezed.

This afternoon, Mr. Collins, the heir of Longbourn, had arrived precisely at 4 o’clock in the afternoon and was welcomed by the ladies of the house. Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet were united in their determination that the man not meet Mr. Bennet yet; the master of the estate was not violent today, but he was extremely inebriated.

Mr. Collins was a tall, heavy set individual of some five and twenty summers and he spoke extremely formally, with many bows and compliments on the beauty of his fair cousins. Once they sat down for dinner, Mr. Collins spoke almost ceaselessly, and the topics of interest to the portly clergyman were Longbourn and its wealth and Lady Catherine de Bourgh, his patroness. The former was offensive since Mr. Collins kept looking around with a look of avarice, and the latter was just boring. Lady Catherine sounded like an imperious and irritating woman, and Elizabeth was thoroughly weary of the subject.

“Er, um, well, Miss Elizabeth, my father has passed on, as you no doubt know, and my only sibling, my younger brother Timothy, left England’s shores seven years ago. I have not heard from him since that time.”

“Oh, I am sorry!” Jane murmured sympathetically. “That must be difficult.”

The rector wiped his moist forehead, “In truth, Cousin Jane, my esteemed father and my brother were not on good terms, and when Timothy chose to go to sea on a merchant ship, life in our little home became calmer.”

“I have often thought it would be quite interesting to go to sea,” Lydia commented dreamily. “It is hard to imagine being on a wooden ship surrounded entirely by water as far as the eye can see.”

“It sounds dreadful to me,” Mary returned with a shudder. “I have read about thirst and storms and the struggles of navigation and seasickness. I have no interest in such experiences.”

“It is fortunate that the men in our Majesty’s Navy are willing to venture into dangerous situations or we would likely be overrun by Napoleon,” Elizabeth observed.

“That is true enough,” Mary acknowledged. “It is the will of God that some are called to stay home, and others to travel across land and sea to work, to fight, to learn. I acknowledge that there is great value in traveling for some.”

Elizabeth sat back with a satisfied sigh as the conversation became general. Mr. Collins, looking rather like a bewildered rabbit, apparently had little to contribute on the topic of travel. For the rest of the meal, he occasionally made remarks about Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her penchant for staying home at Rosings the vast majority of the time, but he was largely, happily ignored.

/

Mrs. Bennet gestured to the nearby chair as she sat down in her own favorite chair in the parlor, “Please, do sit down, Mr. Collins.”

The clergyman obeyed and, after peering at the fine wainscot paneling which adorned the parlor walls, turned his attention on his hostess.

“Mrs. Bennet, while I have no desire to be forward, I had hoped to visit with your esteemed husband Mr. Bennet soon. May I inquire as to when he will be available?”

The lady of the house hesitated, plucking uneasily at her shawl, “I fear that Mr. Bennet has far more bad days than good, and today is not a good day. Perhaps you can speak to me instead and I can pass on any messages you have for him?”

“I wish to marry one of your daughters, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Collins intoned solemnly, “with the express purpose of mitigating the great sorrow of losing their home upon the death of Mr. Bennet.”

Frances Bennet’s nostrils flared in shocked delight at these words. A real live eligible suitor for her girls! The heir of Longbourn himself! What a gift!

“That is wonderful, Mr. Collins, absolutely wonderful!” she gushed. 

The man bowed portentously and lifted one plump hand to stroke his chin, “Miss Bennet is the eldest, of course, and thus by right of seniority should be the first to marry.”

The lady shook her head slowly, “Oh, Mr. Collins, Jane is a delightful girl but she is, well, she is very close to being engaged to Mr. Bingley of Netherfield Park, who has been courting her most assiduously.”

Mr. Collins frowned heavily at this, but he was, at heart, a suggestible soul. 

“Miss Elizabeth is, of course, second in birth and beauty,” he mused. “She would do nicely as the mistress of the parsonage at Hunsford.”

Now Mrs. Bennet openly shuddered. Much as she disliked Lizzy’s high handed ways, she knew that Longbourn’s continued solvency was due to her second daughter’s diligence. Furthermore, Elizabeth was the only one in the house who could reliably manage Mr. Bennet during one of her husband’s ‘spells’. No, not Elizabeth.

“Mr. Collins,” she responded, allowing her forehead to wrinkle just slightly, “I do apologize for contradicting you, but of course you do not know Elizabeth well. She is, and I am ashamed to say it, rather a strong willed young lady and does not always respect her elders as she ought. I blame her father, I really do; he taught her far more than he should when she was younger. She actually reads some Latin and Greek, Mr. Collins! No, no, I would not wish you to marry a woman who did not show Lady Catherine the great respect that she deserves …”

Mr. Collins paled and actually swayed slightly at the very thought of such a thing, “Surely not, Mrs. Bennet! Surely the very sight of the great lady in all her glory and wisdom …”

“What about Mary, Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Bennet interpolated hastily. “I believe she has nearly memorized Fordyce’s sermons. She would make a wonderful clergyman’s wife.”

Mr. Collins did not conceal his wince. He wanted a pretty wife, and Mary was the only Bennet girl who was not pretty. Nor was he convinced that his cousin Elizabeth was not an option. No young woman could fail to be awed into respectful silence and reverence in the presence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Kent.

“Well, we shall see, shall we not?” the clergyman suggested, his expression mulish. “We shall see.”


	12. Chapter 12

## Chapter 12 

Elizabeth glanced at the fire in the drawing room and peered out the window at the woodpile next to the stable. The stacks of cordwood were low, and it would be wise to obtain more logs sooner rather than later. More importantly, she must order Mr. Gregory to arrange for the purchase of a large load of coal. November was not generally too cold, but there were exceptions.

She turned around to gaze with satisfaction at Jane, who was seated on the couch nearest the fire, her hands busy with her knitting. Jane had recovered well from her illness except for an occasional cough, much to the relief of the entire family. Mrs. Bennet, who was sitting on an arm chair staring blankly at nothing in particular, had distressed Lydia with her constant harping about proper care for Jane and referring to Matthew’s last illness. Elizabeth hoped that with Jane’s renewed health, the matron would subside.

Longbourn was surprisingly quiet at the moment. Mr. Collins, along with Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, had gone to Meryton to visit Mrs. Emma Philips, Mrs. Bennet’s sister. The clergyman had shown some inclination to linger at home, but Jane had coughed dramatically in his presence, and Elizabeth had unashamedly hidden in her bedchamber to work on accounts. Eventually the rector was convinced that a pleasant stroll into town on a sunny November day would not be amiss.

“Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy,” the butler intoned solemnly, causing the three ladies to turn to the door in astonishment. The Bennet women rose to their feet and curtsied as the two gentlemen made their cautious way into the drawing room. Mr. Darcy was now an adept with the crutches, but the Longbourn drawing room was a maze with footstools and small tables and plants tucked in odd positions, all ready to reach out and trip their hapless quarry.

“Mr. Bingley!” Mrs. Bennet squealed with pleasure, “welcome to Longbourn! And good morning to you as well, Mr. Darcy.”

The latter was said far more coldly, but Darcy found he could not be offended by the matron’s manners; he had, after all, he had been far more insulting to her daughter not long ago at the Meryton assembly.

“Mr. Darcy,” Jane exclaimed with a welcoming smile, “please do sit down, sir, and you as well, Mr. Bingley.”

Bingley’s expression glowed with enthusiasm at the sight of the angelic Miss Bennet, but he carefully assisted his friend into a chair before taking the seat on the couch next to Jane.

“I do hope you are well, Miss Bennet,” he inquired, peering intently into the lady’s face, presumably in search of lingering disease.

“I am very well indeed, Mr. Bingley,” she replied, pinking with pleasure. “It was only a mild illness, and I am quite recovered.”

“That is excellent,” Bingley replied heartily. “Most excellent indeed.”

“May I inquire as to how you are feeling, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth inquired courteously.

“I am very well, and thanks to the crutches, my mobility has been vastly improved. I hope that I can thank your father in person for his willingness to lend them to me as the last few days would have been far more difficult without them. However, I understand he is of poor health, and I do not wish to intrude unduly.”

Elizabeth and Jane exchanged quick glances and Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth in confusion, only to be interrupted at the sound of a male voice from the door.

“You are entirely welcome,” Mr. Bennet announced, shooting a sardonic smile at his second daughter, “it was indeed most gracious of me to share my crutches. Elizabeth, would you be so kind as to introduce me to our guests?”

Elizabeth was torn between vexation and relief; vexation that she had failed to tell her father of the loan, relief that Mr. Bennet seemed quite sober for 11 o’clock in the morning.

“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, my father, Mr. Bennet. Father, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley.”

The men all nodded to one another and Mr. Bennet waved a general hand behind him, “I will not interrupt your time with the ladies, but please feel free to stop by the library before you leave gentlemen.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bennet, we will,” Bingley returned enthusiastically, his eyes already sliding away from his host and towards the glorious features of Miss Bennet.

/

An hour later, Fitzwilliam Darcy settled back into the carriage and heaved a sigh of relief. Climbing anywhere, whether up the stairs or into a vehicle, was still a difficult business. His ankle was improving steadily, but it still protested loudly if jostled.

Bingley, who had lingered a few moments in the Bennet home for some last words with the eldest daughter of the house, climbed in, closed the door, and tapped the roof. The coach jolted into motion.

For a full minute, all was silent. Darcy had much to think about – his odd fascination with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the unnerving encounter with Mr. Bennet, and his distaste for the evening to come at Netherfield. Miss Bingley was always cloying and irritating, but she was far worse now and far more difficult to avoid given his limited movement. At least Darcy’s valet was a highly diligent servant and could be trusted to prevent a compromise.

“Mr. Bennet drinks, does he not?” Bingley suddenly announced, and Darcy started in amazement.

Apparently the surprise was obvious on his countenance because the younger man chuckled grimly, “Come, Darcy, I may not be as old as you are, but I have certainly known many a drunkard. He reeks of alcohol and his fingers tremble.”

Darcy sighed, “I am also familiar with the signs, but I admit to finding Mr. Bennet’s weakness quite startling. It was obvious based on our discussion that he is a well-educated man, and his library is extraordinary for a country squire. I am quite looking forward to reading the books that he lent me.”

“It astonished me too,” Bingley agreed ruefully, “but then I am no great reader. It is a tremendous pity.” 

“It is,” the other man agreed solemnly. “I find it disturbing as well, given that Mr. Bennet’s life is the only thing that stands between his wife and daughters and poverty. Longbourn seems in remarkably good form given that its master has succumbed to the clutches of excessive drink.”

“Based on my conversations with Miss Bennet, I believe Miss Elizabeth is largely responsible for that.”

Darcy stared at his friend incredulously, “Miss Elizabeth?”

“Yes, Miss Bennet waxed enthusiastic over her sister’s intelligence and diligence, and while you were stumping your way painfully to the carriage, the steward stepped into the foyer and began discussing the purchase of coal with Miss Elizabeth.”

Darcy’s incredulity gave way to genuine anger, “It is unconscionable that a man of intelligence would drop such a heavy burden on his underage daughter, Bingley. Unconscionable.”

“It is, but many a man has done far worse, I suppose.”

“Like whom?” the taller gentleman demanded, still steaming.

“Henry VIII? He had two of his wives executed, after all, including Queen Elizabeth’s mother Anne.”

Darcy grunted irritably, “Very well, I acknowledge that Mr. Bennet is a better husband and father than Henry VIII, but that is hardly a comparison.”

Bingley sighed, “I daresay losing his son may have precipitated the crisis.”

“Why would you say that?”

Bingley gazed out of the carriage window, his expression melancholy, “When my brother Harold died, my mother fell into a deep depression. While she did not turn to drink, she did withdraw from us for more than two years. My father threw himself into his business and neglected his home life during that same time. Alcohol may be Mr. Bennet’s mode of escaping the grief of losing son and heir and legacy.”

Darcy opened his mouth at this, only to be stopped by his friend’s lifted hand, “You would not do such a thing, Darcy, I know that. But you are a very strong-willed, diligent, hardworking soul. A man with a predilection towards indolence might well fall into total lethargy after such a heartrending event.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Darcy agreed somberly, his mind focused on the estate receding behind him. If it was true that Miss Elizabeth was single handedly keeping her family and estate solvent, she was the most remarkable woman he had ever met.

/

“Aunt Phillips has invited us all to supper tomorrow evening,” Mary announced.

The five Bennet girls had retreated once again to Lydia’s chambers, all of them eager to avoid further conversation with their tedious cousin, Mr. Collins.

“That sounds very pleasant,” Elizabeth declared. “I probably ought to stay home, however, to catch up on paper ...”

“Oh, do say you will go, Elizabeth!” Lydia interrupted fervently. “You work too hard – you know you do – and besides I will feel better if you and Jane are both there. Aunt Phillips is inviting some of the officers from the militia regiment for lottery tickets and dinner, and Kitty and I feel rather shy around them.”

Jane looked at Mary questioningly at this announcement.

“You know that Aunt Phillips enjoys new acquaintances, and we met an officer today on the way to her house,” Mary explained carefully, “a Mr. Wickham, who has just taken a commission in the regiment. He is an acquaintance of Mr. Denny’s, though I am not certain if you know Mr. Denny, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth frowned at this. She was far too busy to be much involved with the militia officers, but ...

“Is Mr. Denny medium height and dark haired?”

“Precisely, yes,” Mary continued. “Mr. Wickham is incredibly handsome and charming, truly the most striking man I have ever met.”

“Even more than Mr. Darcy?” Lydia asked innocently.

For some reason, Elizabeth found herself blushing at these words and ducked her head to focus on her needlework.

“Mr. Wickham is not quite as tall,” Kitty mused, “and his hair is dark blond. I would say he is at least as good looking at Mr. Darcy.”

“In any case,” Jane declared, “Mr. Wickham sounds like a pleasant new acquaintance, does he not?”

“I have no doubt he is,” Lydia explained timidly, “but I find it hard to converse with strangers. Perhaps I should stay home myself ...”

“No, no, Lydia!” Kitty cried out. “You must come and keep me company. And you three older ones must come too, please!”

Elizabeth looked upon her two youngest sisters and tears tingled her eyes. Before Matthew’s death, Lydia had been a boisterous, happy creature, to the point of being overly bold at times. Now, grief had darkened that joyful spirit and she was nervous about being away from the familiarity of Longbourn.

She glanced at Jane and nodded, “Of course we will all go.”

“And Mr. Collins will attend too,” Mary admitted with a roll of her eyes. “Our aunt invited him.”

Elizabeth only barely managed to suppress an irritated groan.

/

_Author note: Fun question: What country do you live in and what is one thing happening there right now? *smile*_


	13. Chapter 13

## Chapter 13

It was nine o’clock in the morning, and Mr. Bennet was well into his second cup of wine; thus, he was most displeased when there was a timid knock on the door of his library.

“Come in,” he ordered irritably, and then stared in surprise before rising unsteadily to his feet, “Mr. Collins, I presume?”

“Yes, Cousin Bennet, it is I myself, Mr. Collins, clergyman of Hunsford by the munificent grace of Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” the clergyman recited as he scanned the library for anything of value. A great many books filled the shelves which lined the walls, which provoked a sly smile of satisfaction. He was not himself a great reader, but a well-stocked library was a precious commodity. 

“I hope you are feeling better, Mr. Bennet?” he asked with a courteous bob of the head. “Mrs. Bennet tells me that you have been unwell, but I feel I really must talk to you about my mission here to your fine estate which is, I flatter myself, a most worthy desire on the part of a man of God, which I am.”

The master of Longbourn frowned. He was not in the mood to talk to this tiresome man who would inherit Longbourn instead of his dear son Matthew. On the other hand, he was too apathetic to actually throw the man from the room.

“Please sit down, Mr. Collins,” he ordered, pouring himself another cup of wine and taking a long drink.

“Thank you, sir. It is my honor and pleasure to finally meet you and your fine family of daughters, Mr. Bennet, though it is regrettable from your perspective, though a blessing to mine, that they are all women. Indeed, I never imagined that I would be blessed to be heir to Longbourn, but the ways of God are strange indeed as I am sure ...”

Mr. Bennet sucked in a deep breath of air and considered his options. He already felt a little unsteady and Collins was tall and well fed; he could not hurl him from the room alone. On the other hand, his servants would come if he called. Well, he would reserve judgement for now, but he could already tell that he and Mr. Collins would not be bosom friends.

“What did you say?” he demanded suddenly, aware that his cousin’s words had continued to wash over him like so much corrosive lime.

“I said, Mr. Bennet, that I wish to marry one of your daughters to mitigate their pain when you pass on to your heavenly reward, though I hope, of course, that the time of your passing is in the far future. We never know, however, when ...”

“That is very gracious of you,” Bennet interrupted sarcastically. “Which of my daughters do you consider worthy of the position at Hunsford as your wife, Mr. Collins?”

The clergyman frowned at the odd tone in Mr. Bennet’s voice. Was not his offer a gracious and generous one?

“Well, I initially thought that I should offer for Miss Bennet since she is the eldest, but your good lady tells me that she is close to being engaged to a certain Mr. Bingley?”

Bennet did not keep a particularly close eye on the doings of the household, but he was vaguely aware that his dear Jane was quite fond of Netherfield’s master.

“Yes, I believe there is some hope in that direction,” he agreed, lifting his cup for another sip.

“So the obvious choice for me is to take Miss Elizabeth as my wife.”

Bennet was so startled that he actually spit the wine out of his mouth and onto his desk. That was annoying on several counts – first, he had lost a pleasant mouthful of alcohol and secondly, his desk was now even messier than usual.

“What?!”

The rector forced his spine to straighten at these incredulous words, “She is the second in birth and beauty, Mr. Bennet, and thus, given the circumstances, most worthy to become my wife.”

“Did Mrs. Bennet suggest such a thing to you?” Bennet asked angrily. Surely even his wife was not idiot enough to think Elizabeth should leave Longbourn tied to this moron?

“Er, no, that is, Mrs. Bennet told me that your second daughter is, um, quite independent and even impertinent and would not treat Lady Catherine with sufficient respect, but I consider that quite unlikely. Anyone who is privileged to live within the beneficent auspices of Lady Catherine de Bourgh cannot fail to submit to her authority and wisdom. Thus …”

“My fool of a wife says something sensible and this dolt ignores her,” Mr. Bennet mumbled to himself.”

“Excuse me? I’m afraid I couldn’t quite hear you.” the parson responded.

Mr. Bennet sighed deeply and leaned back in this chair, “Are you much of a reader, Mr. Collins?”

The man blinked, “A reader? I can read, of course.”

“No, do you read books for pleasure or learning on a regular basis, Mr. Collins.”

“Erm, no. My duties as parson do not permit much time …”

“Do you speak Latin or Greek?”

“At Cambridge, of course I memorized some Latin …”

“How about mathematics, Mr. Collins? Are you skilled in mathematics?”

A bead of sweat slithered down the rector’s brow and he shook his head, “No.”

“Then trust me when I say this, Mr. Collins, that you and my Lizzy are not well suited. She can translate at least some Greek and Latin passages, and she has a remarkable head for figures. I assure you that she would find you exceptionally dull, and you in turn would find her offensively intelligent. Besides, I need her here.”

His guest was red with outrage at his host’s words, but the last sentence caught his attention, “You need her here, Cousin? Why?”

“Why?” Mr. Bennet inquired with an indelicate snort. “Why? Because she oversees Longbourn, that is why! My health is too indifferent to permit me to administer the estate properly, and my wife has not the intelligence to do so. No, we cannot do without Elizabeth.”

Mr. Collins stared at him with abject horror, “She? You are saying my young cousin is running the estate? Surely not! Do you not have a steward?”

“Mr. Gregory? Yes, we do, but I assure you that while he is a good man, it is Elizabeth who provides true leadership here at Longbourn. I will not permit her to leave, Mr. Collins, and since she is not of age, you had best turn your eyes elsewhere. What of Mary? She has always been a serious soul and might enjoy being a parson’s wife.”

“She is not …” Collins began impulsively, before trailing away in embarrassment.

“Beautiful?” the other man commented cynically. “Take my advice, Mr. Collins. Do not marry based on outward appearance. I did that and have regretted it these twenty odd years. Now go away. I am ill and need a rest.”

Collins opened his mouth, closed it, eyed the nearly empty wine bottle with suspicion, and left the room with a huff.

It was absurd to think that his cousin, Elizabeth, a woman, not yet of age, could possibly run this estate with any skill whatsoever. 

/

“Miss Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth, who was huddled with the housekeeper discussing the food expenses of the last quarter, looked up in surprise. Mr. Collins usually slept late and kept to the parlor and sitting rooms. It was peculiar to find him penetrating into the kitchen.

“Yes, Mr. Collins?”

“Might I have a few words with you?”

Elizabeth blew out a slow breath and pasted a smile on her lips, “Of course, Mr. Collins. Let me finish speaking to Mrs. Hill, and I will join you in the west sitting room?”

The man nodded, though his face was creased in an irritable frown, and left the room.

Elizabeth finished her discussion with Hill and stepped into the sitting room. She carefully left the door open and halted a few feet from the entrance, just in case she felt a strong need to leave the room promptly.

Mr. Collins was standing portentously in front of the window and he looked down on her with clear disapproval on his face.

“Miss Elizabeth, I spoke to your father a few minutes ago.”

Elizabeth eyed him uneasily. At this hour, her father was likely not too drunk, but he was rarely completely sober.

“Yes, Mr. Collins?”

“He informed me that you, my cousin Elizabeth, not yet one and twenty years of age, are overseeing the Longbourn estate. Is that true?”

Elizabeth hesitated and shook her head slowly, “That is not entirely correct, no. Mr. Gregory is a fine steward and oversees the day to day administration of the estate. My father and I discuss all legal papers and he, naturally, signs all documents. I assist with various tasks which are ill suited for my mother and which my father finds impossible due to his precarious health, but I am, of course, not the mistress of the estate.”

The man’s plump face relaxed and he nodded, “That is all true enough, Cousin. I am relieved that you realize your own place. You are far too young, and too female, to administer Longbourn with any ability.”

For a moment, Elizabeth was tempted to lash out verbally, but her ready sense of humor came to her rescue. Really, Mr. Collins was an imbecile!

“But is not Rosings well administered by Lady Catherine, also a female?” she inquired innocently.

The man’s face paled in horror at these words, and he nodded rather frantically, “Yes, of course, Cousin! Of course! But you cannot possibly be comparing yourself to Lady Catherine herself!”

“Naturally not.”

“She is the daughter of an earl, Miss Elizabeth, and far older and more experienced than you are. Her noble antecedents give her the authority and ability to manage an estate far greater than this humble place.”

Elizabeth contented herself with a tight nod. Mr. Collins was fast shifting from unknowingly amusing to annoying.

“I wish to tour the estate,” Mr. Collins announced. “It seems only right given that I will be master when your father dies.”

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, but this was rational enough. It would be better for everyone if Mr. Collins had some prior experience with the tenants and lands.

“Of course, Mr. Collins. The weather seems uncertain today and tonight we are attending the dinner at my Aunt Philips. Perhaps we can tour the estate on horseback tomorrow morning?”

The man frowned hideously at these words, “I do not need for _you_ to come, Miss Elizabeth. I will go with Mr. Gregory, who must know far more about Longbourn than a mere female.”

Elizabeth suppressed a roll of her eyes, inhaled and then slowly let out a long breath, “As you wish, Mr. Collins.”

/

Mr. Wickham was even more handsome and charming then reported. He was tall but not exceedingly so, light haired with sky blue eyes, graced with a most charming figure which set off his military coat to admiration, and was light on his feet. Elizabeth, to her surprise, was the focus of his attention within five minutes of his arrival at her Aunt Phillips’ house, and ten minutes later they were conversing pleasantly about the society of Meryton and its environs.

“I am indeed very happy in Meryton, Miss Elizabeth,” the man declared in answer to her query. “I have known many people to crow about the pleasures and glories of London, but here we have been welcomed in a most generous way, far more warmly than anything I have experienced in the Metropolis. I foretell a most delightful sojourn here for the entire regiment.”

“I hope so, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth replied. “We always enjoy new acquaintances in our somewhat circumscribed society.”

“I have no doubts,” the gentleman returned warmly. “I grew up far north of here in Derbyshire and while I will always miss it, I must not repine when I have the pleasure of meeting charming ladies like you.”

“Derbyshire, Mr. Wickham? I recently met a man who also hails from Derbyshire. Have you ever visited an estate called Pemberley?”

There was a flash of some strong emotion which crossed Mr. Wickham’s face, to be replaced by something else. Wariness? Surprise?

“Yes,” the man responded after a long moment. “I actually grew up on the Pemberley estate.”

Elizabeth sat up straighter in amazement, “Did you indeed? Then you must know Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully now, her curiosity excited. Mr. Wickham’s face, formerly so gentle and welcoming, was now blank and his eyes were watchful.

“I knew of him, of course,” the man replied carefully. “He was the son of the owner of the estate, Mr. George Darcy, while I was but the son of Mr. Darcy’s steward.”

“Oh, I see,” Elizabeth replied with some disappointment. Mr. Wickham seemed a charming young man, but she supposed that the Darcys were too proud to permit their son to spend much time with a servant’s progeny.

“So you say that Mr. Darcy is living nearby?” asked her companion.

“Yes,” Elizabeth admitted, glancing absently towards Jane, who was seated next to Lydia talking with Mr. Denny. “He is staying with a friend of his named Mr. Bingley, who is leasing the Netherfield Estate not far from here.”

“And what do you think of Mr. Darcy?” Wickham inquired intently.

“Well, initially I confess that my opinion was not favorable as he seemed arrogant, but of late I have found him far more agreeable.”

“He does have a reputation for being very proud,” the man agreed. “The very rich often are, especially when they are connected to the nobility as Darcy is.”

Elizabeth considered her companion thoughtfully, “Yes, I suppose perhaps he can be accused of pride; nonetheless, I find him an admirable person in many ways. I gather he is a good master of Pemberley.”

“Oh yes, he is,” the man responded warmly. “He greatly esteems the Darcy name and Pemberley is a fine estate, with 10,000 pounds per annum in income. He would not neglect his duties for fear of what people might say if he were neglectful of his responsibilities in that arena.”

Elizabeth hesitated briefly, uneasy at the man’s words. It seemed clear that the handsome military man did not like Mr. Darcy in the least, which seemed a pity. She was tempted to ask a direct question, but she hardly knew this man; it would be indelicate.

“I daresay,” she replied playfully, “that many a rich man has put on haughty airs to fend off young ladies in search of a fortune. But come, Mr. Wickham, please do tell me of Pemberley. I have rarely left home, but my father has a number of books about travel. Is Derbyshire similar to Hertfordshire in its landscapes?”

/

“It seems you enjoyed Mr. Wickham’s conversation very much,” Jane commented as the Bennet daughters gathered in Lydia’s room before retiring to their beds. “You spent much of the evening talking together.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her brow thoughtfully, “In some ways, yes, it was very pleasant.”

“Only some ways?” Mary asked curiously.

“Mr. Wickham is obviously very handsome,” Elizabeth mused, “along with being exceptionally charming. However, he clearly dislikes Mr. Darcy and kept making subtly negative remarks about the master of Pemberley.”

“Perhaps at one point Mr. Darcy commented that Mr. Wickham was not handsome enough to talk to,” Kitty interjected, provoking a communal laugh from the Bennet sisters. Elizabeth was glad that Kitty had forgiven Mr. Darcy sufficiently that she could laugh about that insult now.

“Perhaps it was something like that,” she agreed. “Mr. Wickham was the son of Pemberley’s steward when he was a boy, and he and Mr. Darcy must be roughly the same age. Based on Mr. Wickham’s comments, it seems that the boys spent little time together.”

“It is not common for a gentleman’s son to spend much time with the children of servants,” Lydia remarked.

“True enough,” Elizabeth agreed. “Indeed, if that is what angers Mr. Wickham, he should not take it out on Mr. Darcy; it would have been his father’s decision, and no doubt Mr. Darcy spent many hours at his studies. He is a great reader and obviously well versed in administering a vast estate both of which take time and effort.”

/

 _Author note: Thanks for all of the responses to my question at the end of the last chapter. It’s fun to hear a little about your lives around the world, and I hope it may bring us all a little closer. *smile*_ _  
_


	14. Chapter 14

## Chapter 14

Mr. Collins walked over to the stables, glancing appreciatively at the sky above him. It was a cold morning, but the sky was blue with but a few fluffy clouds. It was a perfect day to inspect the estate that would be his own when his cousin passed through heaven’s gates.

“I have Columbine ready for you, sir,” the stable boy, Clem, informed the clergyman respectfully, gesturing to the white horse waiting patiently in front of the building.

Mr. Collins eyed the great beast cautiously. He knew how to ride, a little. As a youth, he had spent several summers with a distant cousin on his mother’s side, and there had been horses on their small farm. They were not young, sprightly horses, and tended toward the smaller side, but they were horses. So he could ride, but this particular horse was very tall. He felt quite intimidated. He was not a great horseman and he knew it. But how could he decline the honor of riding such a gigantic animal without losing face?

“Is this Miss Elizabeth’s horse?” he inquired carefully.

The stable boy shifted nervously and shook his head, “No, sir. Miss Elizabeth usually rides Daisy.”

“Daisy?”

“In the second stall, sir.”

Mr. Collins strode over hopefully to peer at Daisy. Based on the name, the horse was almost certainly a female, and females were less volatile than males, were they not? Furthermore, compared to Colombine, Daisy was a dainty creature. Surely she would be no threat if such as Miss Elizabeth could ride her.

“I will ride Daisy,” he announced. “Saddle her up.”

Clem’s eyes grew wide in shock, “But sir, Daisy is Miss Elizabeth’s horse and she is rather dang …”

“Silence, boy!” the clergyman interrupted imperiously. “I will be master of this estate when Mr. Bennet dies, and everything here, including the horses, will belong to me. I have given you an order!”

Clem opened his mouth and then closed it helplessly. He had not previously interacted with Mr. Collins but had heard from the stable master that the heir to Longbourn was, not to put it too finely, pig headed.

“Yes, sir.”

/

“Mr. Collins?” Mr. Gregory inquired in wonder, urging his own pony forward to greet the man who would inherit the estate.

“Mr. Gregory,” the clergyman responded. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” the steward of Longbourn returned, his gaze fixed on the filly shifting uneasily under Mr. Collins’s heavy form. “Is Columbine injured, sir?”

Collins blinked in confusion, “Columbine?”

“The white gelding. I expected you to ride him today.”

“I prefer this animal,” Collins replied loftily. 

“But Mr. Collins …”

“I suggest you hold your tongue, Mr. Gregory,” Collins interpolated angrily. “If Mr. Bennet passes on to his reward soon, which seems likely based on his poor health, you will find me as your master. I will ride the horse I wish to ride. Is that clear?”

The steward winced, “But sir, Daisy is quite …”

“Silence!”

/

“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth, who had been studying the financial ledgers in the study, leaped to her feet, alarmed at the distress on the young maid’s face. 

“Is it my father?” she demanded fearfully.

“No, miss, no! It is Mr. Collins! Mr. Gregory just raced back on his horse to say that Mr. Collins has taken a fall. He is hurt, Miss!”

Elizabeth rushed out of the house with Mary and Kitty, who had been attracted by the noise, at her heels. They found the stable yard a maelstrom of confusion, with Mr. Gregory at the center of it all.

“Mr. Gregory!” Elizabeth cried out.

“Miss Elizabeth! I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth! Mr. Collins insisted that he ride Daisy …”

“What!?”

“Yes, and of course she threw him. I had to leave him to get help, but I must return immediately. Would you send word to Mr. Jones that his services are required? I will have several of the lads assist in placing him on Buttercup and we will bring him back as soon as possible.”

“How is Daisy?” Kitty demanded.

“I think she is well enough, Miss Kitty, but I cannot be sure.”

Elizabeth, who had been struck dumb at the very idea of the moronic parson mounting a horse as fractious as Daisy, shook herself, “We will deal with the mare after we care for Mr. Collins. Return to him, and Buttercup will be along shortly with several stout men.”

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”

/

“Well, Mr. Jones, how is Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Bennet asked peevishly, rising from her chair in the west sitting room. “Really, Mr. Collins has no compassion on my nerves at all. Is it not enough that he has forced his way into my home and irritated my husband? Now must we wait on him hand and foot while he recovers from falling off a horse?”

The apothecary hesitated a moment before speaking, “Perhaps you should sit down, Mrs. Bennet.”

Jane, who had been working on some needlepoint, shot a worried look at Elizabeth, “Is Mr. Collins seriously hurt, sir?”

Jones sat down with a deep sigh, “I am afraid that he is, Miss Bennet. Indeed, I do not believe he will survive his injuries.”

Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet gasped and Jane’s eyes filled with horrified tears, “He is dying? How can that be?”

“He hit his head on a rock when he fell, and I believe he fractured his skull. If I may say so, Miss Eliza ... Mrs. Bennet, you would be wise to send for a physician from London. Perhaps there is something that can be done for the man of which I am unaware.”

“Why should we send to London, Mr. Jones?” the nominal lady of the house demanded irritably. “Naturally I am sorry for the poor man, but he was the one foolish enough to fall off a horse. Besides, you are very skilled. Even Mr. Darcy, who is a haughty fellow, declares you to be an excellent medical practitioner.”

“I believe that it would be wise to summon a physician because Mr. Collins is the heir to Longbourn, and he fell off your horse, Miss Elizabeth. I am certain that you would wish it to be generally known that everything was done to succor him.”

Elizabeth winced at these words, “You are entirely correct, Mr. Jones. Thank you.”

/

“Darcy!”

The master of Pemberley had been hiding in his sitting room pouring over the poem _The Lady of the Lake_ , which he had borrowed from Mr. Bennet. He jerked in surprise as his friend shot impetuously through the door.

“Bingley?” he demanded in surprise and some alarm. “What is it?”

“Mr. Collins, your aunt’s parson, the heir to Longbourn, but, well, the poor fellow took a toss off a horse and is badly injured. Miss Elizabeth just wrote asking if we had any advice on a physician in London to summon. I do not really. Do you? I am also thinking I could go over and comfort Miss... all of them. It must be quite upsetting …”

“He fell off a horse? How?” Darcy demanded, and then shook his head. “That hardly matters, does it? Yes, I have an excellent physician and would be glad to send for him immediately if you like.”

“Please do!” 

/

“Mr. Jones has done everything possible, Mrs. Bennet,” Doctor Lee said gravely. “Mr. Collins is unconscious and fading fast. I do not think he will last the night.”

There was a gasp from the lady of the house and Jane cried out in dismay, “Oh, Doctor, are you certain?”

“I fear so,” the doctor responded gravely. “There is little to be done with a major skull injury like this. I have given Mr. Collins some laudanum so that he will not suffer, though I believe at this point, he is not aware of anything.”

Elizabeth, who was pale with distress, rose to her feet, “Doctor Lee, thank you very much for coming so quickly. I hope you will accept a bedchamber here at Longbourn so that you are not required to ride back to London in the dark.”

“Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley interpolated from his place next to Jane, “I have already invited the doctor to spend the night at Netherfield. You have enough on your shoulders with Mr. Collins’s injury, though perhaps you wish to stay to watch over your patient, Doctor?”

“No, Mr. Jones is here and can oversee the man’s final moments. I promise you it will not be much longer. I am very sorry I was not able to do more.”

“We are grateful for your expertise,” Elizabeth assured him. “It is a comfort to us all that all that could be done, was done.”


	15. Chapter 15

## Chapter 15 

“The heir to Longbourn died from falling off a horse?” Miss Bingley inquired incredulously. “How could such a thing happen?”

Darcy sank gratefully into his chair near the breakfast table. His arms were tired from using the crutches and he had sore spots from the wood digging into his sides. He would never take walking for granted again.

“It happens more often than you imagine,” he commented, taking a welcome sip of coffee, “though more often during a hunt over difficult ground than down a well-tended path.”

“Apparently Mr. Collins insisted on riding Miss Bennet’s horse, Daisy,” Bingley explained gloomily, “in spite of warnings from both the stable boy and the steward that she was a difficult ride. She threw him and regrettably a rock was in just the wrong place.”

“She sounds like a dangerous beast,” Miss Bingley exclaimed with a dramatic shudder. “I am truly startled that Miss Elizabeth is so bold as to ride her.”

“Many a horse will behave well for her master or mistress but act in an unruly fashion for another. It is likely that he was not as accomplished a rider as Miss Elizabeth. Collins made a fatal mistake, which is a tragedy.”

“Darcy, I am thinking that I will go over to Longbourn this morning to see if the Bennets need any assistance with the arrangements for Mr. Collins.”

Miss Bingley gasped in shock at this pronouncement and turned an outraged look on her brother, “You cannot be serious! The Bennets and Mr. Collins are nothing to us, and it would be entirely inappropriate to involve yourself in a private family matter such as this.”

Bingley wilted at this and shot an uneasy look at his friend, “I suppose that is true, Caroline.”

“Mr. Collins was the rector of my aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” Darcy declared. “I consider it my duty to learn the details of his death before I send a letter to Lady Catherine. Bingley, would you be willing to accompany me to Longbourn since my ankle still pains me?”

“Of course!” his friend exclaimed, his expression lightening. “When shall we leave?”

“Perhaps in an hour so that we arrive at the beginning of normal visiting hours?”

“Splendid!”

It _was_ splendid. Darcy was thoroughly weary of being incapacitated in the same house as Miss Bingley. In the past, he had been able to easily drift off to the library or the pool room or his own bedchamber when her hovering was particularly annoying, but the crutches rendered him slow as a snail, and she often beat him to his intended destination. At Longbourn, there would be distressed ladies but no Miss Bingley. Nor were his motives entirely selfish; he admired Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and given her parents’ incompetence, she would likely be saddled with the details of contending with Collins’s death. He would be honored to assist her in some small way.

/

“Why should we wear deep mourning for Mr. Collins, Jane?” Lydia demanded with tears in her eyes. “We only met him a few days ago! I wore mourning for Matthew for months and now I wear half mourning for my beloved twin. It does not seem right to wear black for our distant cousin.”  
Jane and Elizabeth exchanged quick glances and Jane leaned forward to embrace her youngest sister, “You need not wear full mourning, Lyddy. The rest of us will but only for a week, and then half mourning for a week. On the one hand, we must respect the dead. On the other hand he was, as you say, but a distant relation.”

Lydia wiped her wet eyes on her handkerchief and smiled sadly, “I do feel sorry for Mr. Collins.”

“We all do, dear,” Jane concurred.

The door opened and Sally, one of the maids, stepped into the room.

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lydia, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley have come to call.”

The elder two sisters started in surprise and then both were on their feet.

“We will be down in a moment, Sally. Thank you.”

/

“And now Mr. Collins is dead and I do not know what is to come of us all,” Mrs. Bennet moaned from her place by the drawing room fire. “He was to marry our third daughter, Mary, you know, which would have allowed Longbourn to stay in the family. Such a generous man and now he is dead!”

Darcy, who had taken a cautious seat well away from garrulous matron, admitted to himself that the clergyman’s plan to marry one of the Bennet daughters was indeed quite generous. The Bennets were a gentle family, but he understood that there was little money for dowries. The heir to Longbourn might well have expected more monetary recompense when choosing a wife.

“It is indeed a great tragedy,” Mr. Bingley said gently. “Mr. Darcy and I were wondering if we could assist in some practical way with the arrangements?”

Mrs. Bennet looked startled, “Oh, well, that is most ... most generous of you both! To be truthful, I have not considered what must be done ...”

“I believe Elizabeth is in the library right now with Father and Mr. Allen,” Miss Bennet said gravely.

“Might I join them, Mrs. Bennet?” Darcy asked and then, observing the surprise in the lady’s face, added, “Lady Catherine de Bourgh is my aunt, you see, and thus I feel it incumbent upon me to assist in Mr. Collins’s final disposition.”

“Oh! Lady Catherine is your aunt? I did not know. Of course, I understand completely. You are most gracious to assist us in this matter. Er, Hill, escort Mr. Darcy to the library.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Darcy, with the assistance of Bingley, rose clumsily to one foot, adjusted his crutches, and staggered out the door.

/

“Father, you must see that it is important that you be there at Mr. Collins’s burial,” Elizabeth murmured in her most soothing voice, though she had little hope of reaching the rational side of her sire. He had been drinking steadily all morning and was now in a state of irritable truculence.

“I will not go there, I will not! The man was fool enough to fall off a horse and die. I have not returned to ... to Matthew’s grave ...”

Mr. Bennet, aged more by sorrow and inebriation than years, burst into tears and Mr. Allen reached out a gentle hand, “I understand, sir.”

The door opened at this inauspicious moment and both Mr. Allen and Elizabeth turned in surprise. The lady’s face flashed red with humiliation as Hill announced Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Oh, was it not enough that her father was a drunkard? Must she be shamed as well?

Darcy took in the situation with a glance and bowed courteously to all.

“Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Mr. Allen, I apologize for my intrusion during this delicate time. My condolences on the loss of your cousin.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth responded, forcing herself to maintain a calm tone. “It has been indeed been a most grievous shock.”

“Mr. Collins was rector under the patronage of my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Thus I wish to offer my assistance in the arrangements for his burial and, unless you object, will write to Lady Catherine to explain what occurred here.”

Elizabeth felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate at these words, “Mr. Darcy, that would be most gracious of you. Thank you.”

“It is my honor,” Darcy replied, and he meant it. It was so wrong that a girl of twenty years carried such a heavy load on her shoulders.

Mr. Allen, the rector, nodded at him with approval when a sudden outburst of barking, muffled by the windows of the library, startled the inhabitants of the library.

“Is that Maxwell?” Elizabeth asked in bewilderment. “Did you bring him?”

“We did not,” Darcy returned, tilting his head to listen more carefully. “Nonetheless, it does sound like him.”

Elizabeth was at the window in a moment, and she smiled at the sight below her. It was indeed the red spaniel, and he was seated below the window looking up at her, his tail wagging, his mouth opened in a cheerful, enthusiastic doggy grin.

“He must have followed you over, Mr. Darcy,” she said with an amused chuckle. 

Darcy made as if to rise, and then remembered, for the one hundredth time, his injured ankle.

“Mr. Allen, do you need me?” Elizabeth asked, turning to the rector.

“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth. I am quite certain that with Mr. Darcy’s help, we can manage all of the arrangements.”

“Then I will go talk to Maxwell for a bit and then shut him up in the stable until Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy are ready to return home.”

Darcy opened his mouth in protest at the thought of a lady doing a servant’s work, but then he closed it. He had seen the smile on Miss Elizabeth’s face, and she liked Maxwell. Perhaps what she really needed right now was time with a friendly animal, away from the human havoc and upheaval in Longbourn.

“That sounds like an excellent plan, Miss Elizabeth,” he declared. “I do apologize for the trouble.”

“Not at all,” she responded and yes, her face looked calmer already. “I adore dogs.”

She curtsied and departed in a soft flurry of skirts and Mr. Aaron smiled at Darcy before getting down to business.

“I understand, Mr. Darcy, that Mr. Collins held the living under the auspices of your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think she will wish for Mr. Collins’s body to be transported to Kent for burial?”

“That will not be necessary, no. Mr. Collins served at Hunsford for less than a year before his tragic death.”

“Miss Elizabeth has already informed me that Mr. Collins has no nearby family; his parents predeceased him, and his only brother went to sea many years ago and has not been heard of since. It seems wise, therefore, that he be buried in our local cemetery.”

“Not next to Matthew,” Mr. Bennet croaked. “I wish to be buried next to my son when the time comes, not this interloper.”

“Of course not, Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Allen returned soothingly.

/

“I am sorry about the dog, Miss,” one of the stable boys exclaimed. “I do not know where he came from!”

“I do know, Jesse,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “He belongs to Mr. Bingley and apparently got loose and followed Mr. Bingley’s carriage here. Return to your work, please, and I will have a chat with Maxwell before shutting him in the fourth stall, if it is empty.”

“It is, Miss, yes,” the boy replied, before running off to fulfill some other task about the stables.

Elizabeth strolled over to a nearby bench and sat down, where Maxwell joined her. She ran a hand down his head and furry neck and back, causing him to pant with renewed enthusiasm accompanied by throaty noises of pleasure.

“You are a dear boy, Maxwell,” she murmured, continuing to stroke his ears and head, “and so delightfully uncomplicated. I wish Father could release the guilt and sorrow of the past and live in the present as you do, but I suppose that is too much to ask.”

Maxwell whined sadly and she smiled at him, “It is not your problem, dear puppy and take heart, I find you a great comfort.”

/

In the end, Mr. Collins was buried with only a small group of men in attendance. Bingley had graciously agreed to accompany Darcy, and Mr. Allen, who spoke the burial rites over the coffin in the church, was supported by one of his deacons. An additional six men, all strong, husky individuals, carried the coffin into the graveyard whereupon the sexton, who had dug the grave overnight, directed them to lower the casket gently into the cold earth.

It was an appropriately somber day, misty and cold, and Darcy felt a twinge of sorrow as he gazed down while the sexton began filling in the dark hole with dirt. He had never met Mr. Collins and knew nothing of him except that the man had been given the Hunsford living by Lady Catherine. That in itself was telling, since Lady Catherine inevitably chose fools and grovelers to serve under her. Mr. Collins would doubtless not be greatly missed by anyone and that was itself a tragic thing, was it not?

“I appreciate your willingness to attend the ceremony, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Allen declared softly, nodding to the pallbearers to indicate that they could depart the graveyard.

“I am honored to be here,” Darcy returned courteously and Mr. Bingley grunted inarticulately.

Mr. Allen lowered his voice and continued, “I thank you on behalf of the Bennet sisters as well, gentlemen. It was a tremendous gift to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth that they were able to leave the disposal of Mr. Collins’s remains in our capable hands.”

“That was indeed our pleasure,” Bingley replied sincerely


	16. Chapter 16

## Chapter 16 

Mr. Hill opened the door to the sitting room and announced, “Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Phillips has arrived. Shall I bring him to you, or would you prefer to meet elsewhere?”

“Bring him in here, Mr. Hill.”

She heaved a self-pitying sigh. Her brother by marriage was a decent enough fellow, but she had not been expecting him, and that likely meant some sort of issue had arisen and Elizabeth was not in the house currently. Well, he could wait for her to return if he must.

Mr. Hill ushered Phillips in and departed. “Good morning, Mrs. Bennet. It is good to see you. May I sit?”

She nodded, and he took a seat by the door as she declared, “If you wish to speak with Elizabeth, she is currently out but should return before long.”

“Actually, I would like to speak with Mr. Bennet,” Phillips stated firmly.

She was surprised to hear that and said as much, “You know he’s not much use these days. You are better off waiting to speak with Elizabeth.”

“No, this is a matter only for your husband. I came early hoping to avoid most of his inebriation. May I try to speak with him?

“Yes, and good luck to you, Mr. Hill!”

/

“Good morning, Brother.”

Mr. Bennet, who was drowsing in his favorite chair by the library fire, lifted his head to gaze in some surprise at Mr. Phillips, husband to Mrs. Bennet’s sister.

“May I sit down?” the solicitor inquired.

“Certainly,” Bennet replied with an apathetic wave of his hand. “Would you care for a drink?”

“No,” the other man returned firmly. “Furthermore, I would appreciate it if you did not drink any more right now, Bennet. I have an important matter to discuss.”

“And why should I stop what I am doing just to please an uninvited guest?” he inquired with a hint of a smile. Phillips shook his head and chuckled, pleased to see the man cheerful enough to make a joke.

“I have business to discuss with you, and I think it best that you be no less sober than you already are.”

Mr. Bennet sighed irritably but Phillips had always been a good man; he would forego his third glass of the day for at least a few minutes.

“What is of such great importance?” he inquired wearily.

Phillips opened his leather satchel and carefully drew out a set of papers.

“These are the documents pertaining to the entail on Longbourn,” he explained. “I took the liberty of studying them carefully yesterday, and my memory served me well; with the death of Mr. Collins, the entail is at an end, and you now may bequeath Longbourn to whomever you wish.”

Mr. Bennet had been stiffening throughout the speech, and now he was on his feet, “What?!”

“The entail is effectively at an end,” the other man repeated, “with some limitations. You may not sell the estate to another because you are under the entail, but it was written such that the entail would end with the death of the third male heir. Your father was the first, you are the second, and Mr. Collins was the third. I studied the wording carefully and there is no requirement within the document that you predecease your heir.”

Bennet shook his head in bewilderment, “When Matthew died, you told me that Mr. Collins was the heir, but my son was the third generation of Bennets.”

“Matthew was underage when he passed on,” Phillips explained gently. “The entail was written to require a male heir of at least one and twenty years so that a string of infant deaths would not end the entail too quickly.”

Bennet found himself upright, his feet striding back and forth across the floor with more energy than he had felt in months, “You are certain this will stand up legally?”

Phillips nodded, “I am certain. I do not know who the next male relative is after Collins, but I am confident that we can defeat any attempt he makes to overturn my interpretation.”

Bennet wrinkled his brow, “Elizabeth mentioned that Mr. Collins spoke of a younger brother who went to sea some years ago, never to be heard from again.”

“That is even better,” Phillips enthused. “With the next hypothetical male heir missing but not declared dead, it is even less likely anyone will cause legal difficulties.”

His brother by marriage stared into the snapping fire, and was surprised to find tears running down his face.”

“You are certain, Brother?” he croaked. “Absolutely certain?”

“I am, Bennet. The entail is broken.”

/

“Well, this is looking much better, Mr. Darcy,” the apothecary remarked, his skilled hands gently shifting the gentleman’s left ankle. “The swelling is down a good deal. Does it hurt you at all?”

“Very little,” Darcy replied. “Occasionally I jolt it on something and then yes, it twinges, but it is far less painful than it was.”

“I believe that it was never broken, merely badly sprained.”

“That is wonderful news, Mr. Jones.”

“That does not mean you should begin walking normally on it,” the other man cautioned. “You must keep it well wrapped, and you may try putting a little weight on it while you walk with the crutches. If it hurts, stop putting any strain on it. I will call again in two days to see how you are doing.”

“I suppose riding is out of the question?” Darcy asked rather forlornly. He missed riding more than he thought possible.

“Entirely out of the question, sir. I promise you that a fall from a horse, while it would not probably kill you as it did poor Mr. Collins, could cause major damage. You will need to restrict yourself to the carriage.”

“You know best. Thank you for your assistance.”

/

“We need only stay home for the rest of the week, girls,” Mrs. Bennet declared reassuringly. “Next week we will wear half mourning, but there is no reason we cannot enjoy society.”

“I do not mind staying home,” Lydia commented, lowering her book. “Elizabeth, have you read _Belinda_ by Miss Maria Edgeworth?”

“I have. What think you of it?”

“It is …,” the youngest Bennet began, and then trailed off as her father stepped into the parlor.

All six women turned to stare in astonishment, and Kitty even darted an incredulous look at her watch. It was late, the sky was dark, and Mr. Bennet was always drunk at this hour and certainly not wandering about the house. What was he doing here? And what was that look on his face?

“Father!” Jane exclaimed, recovering from her surprise. “Do sit down. It is wonderful to see you.”

“And it is wonderful to see you as well, all of you,” Mr. Bennet proclaimed, settling into the chair farthest from the fire. He looked at his wife and each of his daughters in turn. No one spoke; it was a strange moment as Mr. Bennet was clearly gathering his thoughts to speak. At last he said, “I have momentous news.”

Mrs. Bennet sat up and the girls laid aside their books, knitting, and needlework. It must be something remarkable to pull Mr. Bennet from his library and his wine.

“I spoke to your uncle Phillips earlier today,” Mr. Bennet declared solemnly. “He has carefully studied the documents concerning the entail on Longbourn. The entail was written to continue until the death of the third male heir; Mr. Collins was that third heir. Thus, with the death of Mr. Collins, the entail effectively is at an end.”

There was a frozen moment of amazement, and then many voices cried out in surprise and confusion including, to Elizabeth’s vague embarrassment, her own.

Mrs. Bennet’s strident voice rose above those of her daughters, and eventually her questions prevailed.

“How can that be? You told me that the entail could not be broken! Surely Longbourn will go to some other tiresome cousin of yours, will it not?”

The patriarch of the family lifted a protesting hand, “Come now, my dear, you must stop speaking if I am to answer! The truth is that your brother Phillips visited me today and tells me that according to the details of the original document, the entail expires upon the death of all three generations of men who have reached their majority. I am the only one remaining now, and while I cannot sell the land, I can will it to anyone I like.”

There was a shriek of joy from Mrs. Bennet and softer cries of delight and wonder from the girls.

“Who will be your heir, Papa?” Lydia asked innocently.

Everyone’s eyes turned to Jane, who blushed uncomfortably and shook her head, “It need not be me.”

“Of course you must inherit Longbourn,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “You are the eldest, so should succeed by right of birth. And you are the loveliest of all my daughters, Jane. Oh my dear, I am so ecstatic! With Longbourn as your inheritance, you will easily find a husband even if Mr. Bingley does not come up to scratch. Mr. Bennet, such wonderful news you have brought us! How kind of Mr. Collins to fall off Daisy in such a fatal manner!”

Jane and Elizabeth exclaimed at such an attitude, and Mr. Bennet, weary of the ecstasies of his wife, retreated to the library. But for the first time in many a month, he did not instantly reach for a bottle.

_/_

_Author note re the entail: I am not a lawyer and I confess to finding entails very bewildering. I found a wonderfully complex description of entails and strict settlements and the like, which talked about the importance of the detail in P & P that a son of age would have been able to “cut off the entail”. There was also discussion about how most entails in that day were three generation entails. If you are a lawyer and I’m wrong, I am sorry. Just go with the idea that the Longbourn entail was as written above – with the death of Mr. Collins, the entail effectively ends because Mr. Bennet, while he cannot sell off pieces of Longbourn, is able to will it in entirety to one of his daughters._


	17. Chapter 17

## Chapter 17 

“Oh, good morning, Miss Elizabeth!”

“Good morning, Clem. How is Daisy today?”

“She is better, Miss, though she still favors her swollen left front hock. We are continuing to put ointment on it and are keeping it bandaged.”

“Please do be careful,” Elizabeth instructed anxiously. “You know she is a difficult girl, and I would be most distressed if someone else was hurt.”

“We are being cautious, Miss Elizabeth, I promise you. She is well behaved for Coachman Jack.”

Elizabeth nodded and walked down the center aisle to the end, where a mounting block was situated. She stepped up on it, ruefully irritated with her own diminutive height which made it impossible to see over the side of the stall without assistance.

“Good morning, Daisy,” she crooned at the filly, who moved from the other end of the loose box toward her. Elizabeth watched her carefully and was pleased to observe that Daisy was walking almost normally. She reached into her pocket and offered an apple with one hand while she stroked the horse’s golden head with her other.

“Miss Elizabeth.”

“Yes, Clem?”

“I am sorry I saddled Daisy for Mr. Collins. He ordered me to, you see, but ...”

Elizabeth turned and gazed down at the stable boy with concern, “Clem, do not worry about it. You had absolutely no choice. He gave you a direct order.”

The youth looked miserable, “I tried to warn him, I did, and so did Mr. Gregory, but he would not listen! I feel that it is my fault, Miss. I never should have let him ride her.”

Elizabeth sighed, “It is not your fault. Mr. Collins made a foolish, arrogant decision and reaped the tragic consequences.”

/

“Did you hear the latest about the Bennets of Longbourn?”

George Wickham, quickly downing a glass of beer at the militia’s favorite drinking establishment, pricked up his ears and glanced across the table at Lieutenant Pratt, a genial redheaded man of some three and twenty years.

“What about the Bennets?” Captain Denny inquired lazily, waving a hand to catch the attention of a serving maid. He had already drunk two full glasses of beer and was clearly only getting started.

“The eldest Miss Bennet is quite the prize now! She is the heiress to Longbourn!”

Wickham set down his glass with a bang and frowned into the younger man’s face, “I thought Longbourn was entailed to the male line.”

“It was,” Pratt agreed with relish, enjoying the attention of all those around him, “and the heir was that tiresome rector who attended the party at the Phillips residence a week ago or so. He took a toss off a horse and died, and the entail died with him. Miss Bennet will now inherit!”

There were soft whistles from the men around Wickham, and Denny sighed as the serving maid brought him a new glass, “I suppose it is interesting enough, gentlemen, but we won’t have much of a chance with Miss Bennet. She is one of the loveliest creatures alive, and now that she has a good dowry, someone will snatch her up.”

“I heard that Mr. Bingley at Netherfield Hall has shown substantial interest in her,” another soldier murmured.

George Wickham sat back in his chair and thought hard. He was, he knew, a fine figure of a man and eminently charming. He had initially discarded all the Bennet girls as possible marriage partners due to the lack of dowry; well, it appeared that Miss Bennet, at least, was now worthy of his attention.

/

“Good evening, Mr. Bingley,” his valet said courteously.

“Good evening, Michaels,” Bingley replied, turning to allow his man to remove his coat. “I hope your cold has diminished?”

“I am very well, thank you, sir,” Michaels replied, congratulating himself once again on serving such a generous and kindly master. He was some forty years of age and had served for more than a decade under an autocratic and irritable baronet. When the man had passed away after a drinking binge, Michaels was fortunate enough to find employment with Mr. Charles Bingley, who was an unexacting and courteous master. Michael knew his place, but he also knew that he was permitted more lenience than many an upper servant. He was currently the recipient of information that would be of much interest to his master, even if it was in the way of gossip.

“Mr. Bingley,” he continued cautiously as he helped Bingley out of his boots.

“Yes?”

“There was talk in the Hall about a most remarkable occurrence in Meryton society, one that pertains to the Bennet family.”

Bingley, whose mind had been wandering in the direction of a certain handsome blonde lady, turned abruptly to face his man.

“The Bennets? What occurrence?”

“It seems that with the death of Mr. Collins, the entail on Longbourn has come to an end. The common understanding is that the eldest Miss Bennet will inherit the estate when Mr. Bennet passes on.”

Bingley face lit up with pleasure, “Will she indeed?”

/

Caroline Bingley cast an irritable glance at the parlor door behind which Mr. Darcy was already sequestered for the evening. She had hoped that with her guest’s foot injury, she would have many hours available to charm the master of Pemberley with her beauty and accomplishments. Regrettably, the man found it necessary to spend too many hours resting in his bed and the remainder of the time he seemed to be at Longbourn, assisting those tedious Bennets with their foolish problems. It was exasperating.

She stalked up the stairs and down the corridor to her own room where her lady’s maid was waiting in attendance with her night robe laid out in preparation. It would be good to get out of this dress, which was more fashionable than comfortable.

“Miss Bingley,” Agnes said, her nimble fingers unhooking the buttons on the back, “your sister, Mrs. Hurst, is waiting in your sitting room for you.”

Caroline frowned in surprise, before forcibly smoothing her face. It would not do for her to develop wrinkles, after all!

“Very well, Agnes, be quick now.”

“Yes, Miss.”

Five minutes later, the girl was dismissed, and Caroline stepped into her private sitting room where Mrs. Hurst was seated gazing absently into the fire.

“What do you want, Louisa?” she inquired fretfully. “I am tired and wish for my bed as soon as possible.”

“Well, I want you to stay up a little longer,” Louisa replied with uncharacteristic firmness. “I have something important to discuss.”

Curiosity warred with obstinacy ... and curiosity won.

“What is it?” she demanded, sinking down across from her sister near the fire. The November winds were cold tonight and Netherfield was chilly.

“I heard a most curious piece of intelligence from my maid about the Bennets.”

“I care nothing for the Bennets, Louisa. You know that. Nor should you be gossiping with the servants!”

Her sister’s lips quirked in amusement, “My dear Caroline, the servants usually know far more than their employers about what is truly going on in the area. I cultivate my maid most carefully as a gatherer of information. In any case, this is of interest. Apparently, with the death of Mr. Collins, the entail on Longbourn is broken, and Mr. Bennet will be making Miss Jane Bennet his heiress.”

“I suppose that is moderately interesting,” Caroline announced, “but I fail to see why it is of such import that you are preventing me from retiring to my bed.”

“Do not be absurd, Sister. Jane Bennet is now much more eligible as she is not only a gentlewoman and beautiful, but an heiress as well.”

Caroline considered this for a moment and sighed, “I suppose there is some truth to that. But do not concern yourself, Louisa. We have successfully steered Charles away from other women who were not worthy of him. I have no doubt we can do the same this time.”

“And I am suggesting that perhaps we should not discourage, but encourage him, to offer for Miss Bennet.”

For a moment, Caroline Bingley’s mouth merely gaped open unbecomingly, and then she recovered her wits sufficiently to snarl at her sister.

“Are you mad? The Bennets? Mere country folk with little beauty or refinement? They are nothing! You cannot be serious in thinking that Charles should marry into such a family, with connections to trade no less. The mere thought of it is causing a pain in my head.”

“ _We_ have connections to trade, Caroline,” Louisa returned irritably. “Our own father made his fortune in trade, whereas Mr. Bennet comes from a long line of gentlemen. I understand Longbourn has been in the Bennet family for more than two hundred years!”

“That matters not! Charles must marry a woman of true refinement with excellent connections, you know that.”

“That is _your_ ambition, Caroline, not mine. Nor is it Charles’s ambition. He has already attained all that he wants and more thanks to his friendship with Mr. Darcy. What he wants for a wife is a handsome, charming, kindly woman, and Jane Bennet is all of those things.”

Caroline pounced at this, “Yes, Mr. Darcy. Exactly! Do you really imagine that the master of Pemberley will marry me if Charles marries a handsome, poorly connected simpleton like Jane Bennet? You must be mad.”

Louisa Hurst took a deep breath and braced herself for an explosion, “Caroline, Mr. Darcy is never going to marry you.”

Again, her sister’s mouth gaped open in astonishment for a moment.

“Of what are you speaking?” the younger sister gasped. “We are meant for one another! I am handsome, accomplished, and will bring a large dowry into the marriage.”

“That will make no difference. There are literally dozens of women who would gladly marry Darcy who are beautiful, accomplished, wealthy, and are the daughters of gentlemen or even nobles. No, dear sister, you must lower your sights.”

“I will not,” the other woman hissed, froth bubbling unpleasantly from the corners of her mouth. “You think I should marry such a one as Mr. Hurst, who lies around drinking and eating all day?”

Louisa’s lips tightened but she forced herself to remain calm, “My marriage to Hurst was one of convenience, you know that. I wished to marry a gentleman and he needed my dowry, unlike Mr. Darcy, who is one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom. I am content enough. Hurst and I deal well with one another, and he is a kind husband. There are plenty of men far worse.”

“I am meant for more than an obliging drunkard.”

Louisa Hurst rose to her feet and pulled her warm shawl closer to her shoulders, “You are free to believe what you like, but keep in mind that if Mr. Darcy wished to marry you, he could have offered for you long ago.”

“He is merely waiting for ... for ... oh! Go away!”

/

_Author note: Happy Valentines Day! I hope you all are doing well, and thank you for reading and commenting!_


	18. Chapter 18

## Chapter 18

“Good day, Mr. Bennet. Are you well?”

Bennet looked up from his desk at Mr. Jones, who had been surreptitiously summoned to Longbourn by one of the stable boys and brought in through the servant’s entrance.

The master of Longbourn moaned softly and gestured toward the seat across from him, “In truth, Mr. Jones, I am feeling rather poorly, but I suppose that is my own fault.”

The apothecary sat down as indicated and quirked a puzzled eyebrow, “Would you care to explain, sir?”

“I have decided that I have been drinking too much.”

Jones managed to keep the surprise off of his face, “Yes?”

“I assume you concur?” Bennet asked drily.

“It is well known that you have been drinking substantially more since you lost your son,” the medical man stated carefully.

The master of Longbourn inclined his head, “Yes, precisely. Ever since Matthew died, I have attempted to keep myself in a haze of at least mild drunkenness. It has been far easier to be inebriated than to feel the pain of loss and guilt and rage and sorrow.”

He stood up and wandered to the window to gaze out at the window, “It was cowardly, of course, and unfair to my wife and daughters, but I could not find it in myself to care.”

“And now you do?”

“Yes, due to the death of Mr. Collins and the breaking of the entail,” he explained, turning to face Jones. “But I find myself in difficulties. While I am energized at the prospect of Longbourn remaining in our immediate family, I find myself longing for wine to the point that I am currently sick and dizzy.”

“Your body has grown used to alcohol, and thus abstaining is uncomfortable.”

“How long will this last?” Bennet demanded irritably.

“I do not know. It depends on your personal physiology and how much you have been drinking.”

“I have been drinking more or less steadily from the moment I get up to when I fall asleep in a drunken stupor. Well, I suppose I am in for an uncomfortable few days, at least, unless you do have some medicine which would alleviate the symptoms.”

Jones shook his head slowly, “I could prescribe laudanum, Mr. Bennet, but that too is addictive. However, I do not believe it is in your best interests to quit alcohol abruptly.”

Bennet sank down into his seat behind this desk, his eyes drawn magnetically to the bottle of wine sitting there, “Why not?”

“I think you do not have the personality for such discomfort, Mr. Bennet, as you have never struck me as a particularly determined man. I fear that in the throes of intense and painful withdrawal, you will decide the process is too unpleasant and give up entirely.”

His patient’s lips quirked wryly, “I suppose there is truth enough in that, regrettably. I have always tended to take the smoother and wider path of ease.”

“Yes,” Jones agreed, thankful that his words had not provoked indignation. “You are, however, an intelligent man. Reduce your alcohol intake slowly, perhaps by one glass a day. Start today by writing down when you drink and how much. Tomorrow, work on waiting between glasses of wine, and reduce your intake by at least one glass. Continue on each day in such a manner. Remember your ultimate goal is to function well physically and emotionally without drink.”

“Very well,” Bennet replied, pressing a slightly shaking hand to his head. “I hoped it would be an easy process, but I suppose I do not deserve a painless experience when I permitted myself to fall into long term drunkenness. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Jones.”

Jones stood up and after a moment of hesitation, spoke again, “Mr. Bennet, I would also suggest speaking with Mr. Allen. You may find spiritual counsel of assistance during this process.”

Bennet tapped his fingers on the desk for a moment and nodded, “Thank you, sir. That is an excellent idea.”

/

“Lizzy?”

“Yes, Jane?” Elizabeth inquired, looking thoughtfully through her garments. They would be shifting from full to half mourning in the next few days and while she had only recently put off her lavender and gray after the death of Matthew, she needed to be certain that at least one half mourning dress was well pressed and tidy. The Lucases had invited the Bennets to a party and all but Lydia and Mr. Bennet planned to attend.

“I am not certain that I ought to inherit Longbourn.”

Elizabeth turned in bewilderment, “Of what are you speaking? Of course you must inherit!”

“Why?”

“You are the eldest and five times more beautiful than the rest of us. With Longbourn as your dowry, you are very eligible. You will make an excellent match, which will be a blessing to all of your sisters.”

“But you are the one who truly understands how to administer an estate. You ought to inherit Longbourn.”

“Jane, my darling sister, no! You have such a kindly disposition and will be a wonderful wife and mother. You deserve all good things. I will not repine if I never marry, but I believe you would be most unhappy. Besides, I know you will support us when Father passes away.”

“Of course I will, Lizzy, but I still think Father should choose you as his heiress.”

“Father will do what he likes, I suppose,” Elizabeth pointed out soothingly. “Now, what do you plan to wear to the party at the Lucases?”

/

“Charles?”

“Yes, Caroline?”

“May I speak to you?”

Bingley suppressed a groan of frustration. It was already 11 o’ clock in the morning, and he had woken up late, eaten a hasty breakfast, and then settled down in his office for a long discussion with his steward. Of course, such interactions were important. He was now master of an estate, and it was vital that he keep his attention on the welfare of the land and the tenants. Darcy said so, and of course Darcy was right.

But he did not want to work today. He wanted to curl up next to the fire in his sitting room and dream about the lovely and gracious Miss Bennet. The full mourning period for Mr. Collins was nearly completed, and he knew that the Bennets were planning to attend a dance party at Lucas Lodge in a few short days. He would be there as well and could hardly wait.

“Come into my office,” he suggested to his sister who was wearing a rather odd expression on her face.

They walked in together, and Bingley sank into the chair he had so recently vacated, whereas Caroline sat in a much more comfortable chair near the now faltering fire.

“I can have a servant build up the fire,” he offered.

“It is not necessary,” she replied in a strangely blank tone. “I have a question for you, and I wish for a truthful answer.”

Immediately all of his instincts for self-preservation rose to the fore, and he poured himself a hasty cup of brandy. When Caroline started asking questions, it was best to be well prepared for verbal fireworks.

“Yes?” he replied cautiously, taking a sip.

“Do you think there is any chance that Mr. Darcy will make me an offer?”

He stared at her in bewilderment, and then stared down into his cup. Did he really dare tell her the truth? She would not like it.

“No, he will not,” he finally declared, throwing caution to the winds.

“Why not?”

Her voice was controlled, but there was a tautness in her expression, like a feral kitten ready to spit and claw at some offending dog.

Bingley fortified himself with another drink before answering carefully, “Caroline, you are a wonderful woman; accomplished, beautiful, and wealthy. But Darcy can have his pick of women like you, and many of those women are also far better connected than we Bingleys. Darcy also enjoys the country more than Town, and I do not believe you and he would be a good match in that regard, as you enjoy society so much. You would find Pemberley dreary year round, and I expect Darcy will spend literally years on end at Pemberley once he is ... well, married and father to children.”

That was, perhaps, a slight exaggeration, but perhaps it would mitigate the pain of his words.

To his surprise and, he admitted, uneasiness, Caroline merely turned back to the fire and stared into it for a long minute. After that, he heard soft snuffling and he realized, with horror, that she was crying. Crying! How long had it been since Caroline cried? The last time he truly remembered genuine sorrow was when her favorite dog had died when she was seven years old …

“I am sorry, Caroline,” he said, rising to his feet and approaching to clumsily pat her on the arm. “I am sorry.”

She wiped her face and turned to him, her face wet but her eyes suddenly blazing, “Why did you not tell me long ago, Charles? Why did you allow me to waste so much of my life pursuing a man who has no interest in me?”

Bingley compressed his lips tightly, “I did not think you would believe me.”

Caroline’s face twisted in anger and distress, “I suppose that is true. It was my own ambition that so blinded me to what was obvious enough. As Louisa said only last night, if Darcy wished to marry me, he would have done so in the past.”

“Louisa?”’ Bingley asked in astonishment. Louisa never confronted their sister.

“Yes, and she thinks you should marry Miss Jane Bennet,” Caroline commented absently, rising to her feet. “And while I think you could do better, I find I do not care much. Perhaps she is right. I will leave in the morning.”

“Leave?” he repeated in confusion.

“Yes, leave, for London,” his sister explained patiently, as if he was a small child. “I have wasted far too much time in this pathetic backwater. I must return to London for the rest of the season so that I can find a husband.”

“Er, Caroline, you cannot live alone …”

“I will hire a companion,” she replied indifferently. “I will need access to more of my dowry; arrange for that if you will, Charles. I will spend the rest of my day writing letters to various acquaintances so that I can begin garnering invitations to balls and assemblies.”

“I need a hostess here at Netherfield ...”

“Louisa can do that,” his younger sister declared, rising to her feet, wiping her face with a handkerchief and sailing out of the office.

Bingley was left staring at her retreating back. On the one hand, was it not so like Caroline to display complete indifference to his need for a hostess? On the other hand, he quite relished the thought of his termagant of a sister departing for the city. He would do nothing to stop her. In fact, he would write that letter to his man of business immediately.

/

_Author Note: Thankfully, no one in my immediate family has had to break an alcohol addiction. I don’t know how sound Mr. Jones’s advice is, but I decided that cold turkey wasn’t going to do it for Mr. Bennet, who is too soft and unmotivated for such a thing._

_Also ... fun question for you. What is one thing that you consider beautiful about where you live? I was chatting with someone from Georgia (the country), and they told me the Caucasus Mountains are amazing. I’ll start it off by sharing that I consider Spring time here to be beautiful with all of the plants and flowers growing and blooming. I can’t wait! *smile*_


	19. Chapter 19

## Chapter 19 

“Father?”

Mr. Bennet swallowed down a bark of impatience and forced a shaky smile to welcome his eldest daughter, “Come in, Jane, and sit by the fire for another … four minutes, if you would. Please do not speak as I am quite uncomfortable at the moment.”

Jane obediently sat down near the fire, though her attention was fixed on her father, who looked to be in a wretched state. He was shivering a little, his face was pasty, his eyes slightly glassy. Was her beloved father ill? And if so, why would waiting four minutes be of any help?

The minutes ground by slowly but finally, upon the very stroke of ten, Mr. Bennet picked up a glass of dark red liquid and drank half of it down quickly, sighing with relief as he did so.

“Thank you for waiting, my dear,” he declared, rising to his feet and moving away from his desk to sink down in the chair opposite his most handsome daughter.

“Are you ill, Father?

“No, I am cutting down on my consumption of wine and finding it a most uncomfortable business.”

Jane’s porcelain forehead creased in astonished wrinkles, “I do not understand.”

“According to Mr. Jones, my body has grown so accustomed to vast quantities of drink that it now craves it incessantly. I am reducing how much I imbibe based on a rigid schedule, and am now in a nearly constant state of agitation, save for those blessed hours immediately upon my most recent glass of wine. Still, it is worth it, I daresay. My head is already somewhat clearer.”

Jane’s eyes filled with sympathetic tears, “Oh Father, I am so sorry about what you are enduring.”

“Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it.”

“You must not be too severe upon yourself,” Jane murmured in distress.

“No, my dear, I should. I retreated into spirits to comfort myself after Matthew’s death, leaving you and Elizabeth to carry the burden of Longbourn and the younger ones. It was the cowardly actions of a foolish old man, but I hope to make things better, if not completely right. But come, I do not wish to discuss my own idiocy and weakness any longer. What can I do for you?”

Jane bit her lip, “I wish to speak of the disposition of Longbourn, Father. Mother believes I should inherit the estate, but I think it should go to Lizzy. She is the one who has been assisting you in managing Longbourn.”

“Assisting me?” Bennet replied with a grim chuckle. “Nonsense, my dear, she has done it all, with Mr. Gregory’s help. I have been useless for the last six months.”

Jane opened her mouth in protest but he waved his hand, “Enough of that. What does Lizzy think on the matter?”

“She thinks it ought to go to me because I am eldest and, she thinks, the most likely to find a good husband. But that seems foolish to me, Papa. If Elizabeth does not marry, my mother and the rest of us unmarried sisters can live at Longbourn with her oversight of the estate. That seems most sensible. I hope I will marry someday, but desire a husband who cares for me because of my character, not my wealth.”

“Like Mr. Bingley, perhaps?”

This provoked a fiery blush and Jane ducked her head, “He has been most charming and attentive, but he has not spoken.”

“Give him time, dear girl. But to answer your question, I have not yet decided to whom I will bequeath Longbourn though I agree that Lizzy seems the obvious choice.”

Jane looked up at him, her upper lip caught firmly between her teeth, which prompted Mr. Bennet to reach forward and put a gentle hand on her own, “What is it, Jane?”

“If someone does offer for me in the near future, I … I would wish the gentleman to be told whether I will inherit the estate or not.”

“Ah, I see,” her father declared, leaning back and stroking his chin. “Yes, I quite see the problem. You would not wish to obtain an offer based on false pretenses.”

“No.”

“Well, my dear, if a man offers for you, before you answer you must tell the gentleman that the situation regarding Longbourn is yet unclear. If he has further questions, he can consult me. Does that help?”

“Yes, Father, it does.”

/

George Wickham forcibly pinned a cheerful smile on his face as he stepped into the front door of Lucas Lodge. He was late to the gathering thanks to Colonel Forster, the commander of the militia, who had ordered Wickham to copy out a series of memos since the colonel’s handwriting was nearly illegible. The memos were tedious and uninteresting, and Wickham was additionally outraged that he had missed a chance to claim an early dance with the lovely Miss Jane Bennet.

“Denny,” he greeted his friend, who gave him a sympathetic grin.

“The colonel kept you late, Wickham?”

“Indeed. Where is Miss Bennet?”

“She is dancing with Pratt, but if you wish to ask her to dance, I would not bother. It is an informal affair and thus she does not have a dance card, but she is swarmed every time she steps off the dance floor.

Wickham grinned at his friend, “We will see about that, Denny. Watch the master at work.”

/

Elizabeth walked cautiously into the front sitting room of Lucas Lodge and smiled as she discovered her quarry.

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy replied, looking up with pleasure. He had stood for only a few minutes in the main room before retreating here; his leg ached, and there were so many people in such a small space that he was in constant fear of being knocked over.

Miss Elizabeth was dressed in a lavender dress in honor of the recently departed Mr. Collins, but the subdued colors did nothing to diminish her beauty and vigor. She was absolutely lovely.

“I was, I confess, surprised to learn that you decided to attend this gathering at the Lucases’ house, but now I understand completely.”

“Do you?” he inquired, fascinated by the arch smile which graced her lips.

“Of course! Here you sit by the fire with Shakespeare in your lap, a servant available to bring you drinks, and no obligation whatsoever to dance. What is there not to like?”

He chuckled openly at this, and she was struck at how very handsome he was when happy.

“There is much truth to that, Miss Elizabeth, but I must admit that I meant to be slightly more social tonight, though my leg thought otherwise.”

She looked down at the open book, “What are you reading?”

“Henry VI, which I suspect seems rather odd.”

“Why would I think it odd?”

“I find most ladies, and gentlemen as well, much prefer the tragedies and comedies to Shakespeare’s historical plays.”

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully as she sank into a nearby seat, “Yes, I suppose that is true enough. I confess to a great love for the histories because my brother Matthew loved them so much.”’

Darcy was startled. None of the Bennet women had spoken of their brother to him.

“Was he a scholar, Miss Elizabeth?” he inquired gently.

“He was. His weak heart meant that he could not dash around like other children, but he had a very fine mind. My father, Matthew and I used to spend so many hours in the library together reading and discussing the Iliad, the Odyssey, Shakespeare, the Bible ...”

She trailed off and heaved out a breath, “Those are precious memories and I am thankful for them. Tell me, what do you think of the historical accuracy of Henry VI, given that Shakespeare was writing under the Tudors …”

/

George Wickham stilled for a horrified moment and then, compelled by curiosity and dread, crept a little closer to the open door of the front sitting room. 

Thus far, he had been quite satisfied with his accomplishments this evening. He had indeed managed to convince Miss Bennet to dance with him and used all his wiles and vast experience to charm her. Once she was claimed by another, he decided to search for Miss Elizabeth; the word among the militia was the eldest Miss Bennet was very close to her next younger sister, and Wickham hoped that by charming the second daughter, he could wriggle even closer to the heiress of Longbourn.

But if Darcy was here – and he would know that voice anywhere, curse him – he had best leave and quickly. Darcy was too much of a gentleman to engage in fisticuffs in the middle of a party, but it had only been a few months since George had nearly run off with Darcy’s precious younger sister. Wickham had been so close to carrying Georgiana off to Scotland for a runaway marriage over the anvil when Darcy showed up unexpectedly and Wickham was tossed out onto the street. There were times that he could hardly sleep at night with fury over the 30,000 wonderful pounds from Georgiana’s dowry which had slipped through his fingers.

Darcy had always been a tall fellow, a horseman and a decent pugilist, and Wickham did not care to be in his presence any more than necessary at this juncture. On the other hand, curiosity compelled him to wonder what Darcy, who was always fastidious, was doing at a dull party in the home of a man like Sir William Lucas.

He shifted a little closer to peer through the door and then relaxed. Darcy was indeed inside, seated on a chair, but his head was turned toward his fair companion, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The two were having an animated discussion, about Shakespeare of all things, and it seemed unlikely that Darcy would look up and observe his old companion.

Very unlikely.

George Wickham stifled a gasp and leaned forward a little more. What was that expression on Darcy’s face? He knew Darcy, knew him well, knew the twitches of his lips, and the wrinkles in his forehead, knew the haughtiness in his eye and the distaste on his aristocratic face when Darcy looked down from his great height on lesser mortals.

But that expression, that one, was nothing like he had ever seen before save when his old playmate was gazing upon his sister Georgiana. Darcy was smiling, he was tender, he was … he was attracted to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. How very, very, very interesting.

George Wickham retreated a few cautious steps and turned, then sauntered casually around the dancing couples to collect another glass of wine at the refreshment tables. He smiled vaguely at a few ladies, wandered toward the door, and glided quietly into the night. Quite the opportunity! He knew he must contemplate just how best to take advantage of his old enemy’s fascination with Elizabeth Bennet.

/

Charles Bingley, sitting forlornly in the corner of the room behind a row of dowagers, took a bite of honey cake and chewed it ferociously, barely noting the exquisite flavor. He had entered Lucas Lodge in the highest of spirits, looking forward to spending time both on and off the dance floor with the lovely Miss Bennet. They had arrived in very good time since Caroline, who was inevitably late to descend from her bedchamber, had left for London earlier in the day.

But when he entered the Lucas’s home with Darcy stumping along at his side, he found the love of his life already dancing with that exceptionally ill-favored officer, Captain Denny. When the Scottish reel ended, Miss Bennet was swamped by other men as soon as she stepped off the dance floor. Bingley fought his way to her and won the privilege of the next country dance, but afterwards, as soon as they left the floor with her delicate hand on his arm, the Lucas heir swooped in and now she was dancing with him!

“Charles, you will not be able to speak to Miss Bennet in this crowd.”

He turned in surprise to observe his elder sister settling into the chair next to him, smiling sympathetically. 

“I suppose you are correct,” he agreed in frustration. “I will call on the Bennets tomorrow.”

“So will at least a dozen other gentlemen,” Louisa declared, gazing out at the loud and swirling throng. “Now that Miss Bennet is the heiress of Longbourn, many a man who previously admired her face will wish to marry her for her fortune.”

He cursed softly and then shot a stricken look at his sister, “I apologize, Louisa. But I truly admire and love her, not for her estate but for her character.”

“Then ask her to marry you.”

He started, “Truly? I seem to remember you did not approve of the Bennets.”

Louisa flushed a little and fanned herself, “In truth, Charles, I was merely following Caroline’s lead on the matter. Hurst took me to task a few days ago; he pointed out that Miss Bennet is a charming and amiable gentlewoman of exquisite character. Regardless of her inheritance, she would be a treasure. I find Caroline’s tantrums thoroughly exhausting and went along with her vaunting matrimonial ambitions because it seemed too much work to combat her.”

“I did the same,” Charles admitted. “I confess that within a few minutes of her leaving for London, Netherfield seemed cleaner and brighter.”

“Hurst said the same.”

Bingley focused on Miss Jane Bennet, who was facing another officer, a gentle smile on her face, and nodded with determination, “I will ask her to marry me.”

“An excellent plan, Brother,” Louisa agreed, “That is, if you truly care for her. It would not be fair to Miss Bennet to offer for her if you are not committed to her happiness. I do not think she or you would thrive in a marriage of convenience.”

Bingley shook his head firmly and lowered his voice a little more, though there was no chance of being overheard over the music and chatter.

“I truly love her, Louisa. Before the entail ended, I worried that Miss Bennet might feel obliged to accept my offer for financial reasons, but now she has no such impetus; she has a fortune of her own.”

“I do not see Miss Bennet accepting an offer for entirely pragmatic reasons,” his sister remarked with a pucker between her brows. “My admittedly limited understanding of her character is that she is an honorable woman who is sincerely attracted to you.”

“Caroline said …” Bingley began, and then trailed off.

Louisa Hurst scrunched her nose irritably, “Yes, of course. Caroline said whatever she could to discourage you from the Bennets. But I urge you to no longer consider her advice in matters of matrimony. I do not intend to. If I may make an additional suggestion, Charles, you should offer for her very soon.”

He smiled gratefully, “Thank you, I believe I will rise early and make my offer in the morning.”

/

_Author note: Thanks to all who shared about where they live and something beautiful there. I really enjoyed that! The down side is that now I have even more places I want to travel to. *smile*_


	20. Chapter 20

## Chapter 20

“Good morning, Mr. Bennet,” said Mr. Allen

Bennet looked up from his seat by the fire and gestured for the rector to come in, “Please sit down, and thank you for coming on a particularly chilly day.”

Mr. Allen obediently settled into position on another chair next to the fire and held out his hands to the flames, even while he surreptitiously studied the man seated across from him. Mr. Bennet looked quite dreadful with a flushed face and a desperate look in his eye. Oddly enough, he was not holding a glass of wine.

“Are you unwell, Mr. Bennet?” he asked gently.

“I am physically, yes, but my greatest sickness is that of the mind.”

“I am most grieved to hear that, sir. Would you care to share your struggle?”

The master of Longbourn leaned back in his chair and heaved out a deep sigh of misery, “I am reducing my consumption of spirits, Mr. Allen. I realized that my habitual state of drunkenness was preventing me from being a good father, husband, and master of Longbourn.”

“That seems an excellent decision,” the reverend replied soothingly, “though I have heard that reducing one’s drinking can be a most uncomfortable experience.”

Bennet laughed harshly, “Uncomfortable, yes. The first few days were dreadful. Now my physical distress is somewhat diminished, but it has woken me up to …”

Tears leaked out of his eyes and he shook his head, “My dear Lizzy, my dear Jane, all of my daughters. Do you know what I have done to them, Mr. Allen? At a time when they were grieving and broken from the loss of their brother and their security, I retreated into habitual intoxication. You know my wife, you know that she is rarely sensible at the best of times. I have always been an idle fellow, but to have forced my own children, most of whom are not yet of age, to carry a burden that I could not ... I find I loathe myself, sir. I hate who I have become.”

Mr. Allen blew out a slow breath, prayed for wisdom, and leaned forward to gaze intently into his parishioner’s face, “What does your self-loathing tempt you to do, Mr. Bennet?”

The other man rubbed his hands on his forehead and chuckled grimly, “I wish to drink until I am thoroughly intoxicated again, so that I can forget what I have done.”

“Very good! Your own self-awareness is, I believe, the key to this difficulty. Mr. Bennet, none of us can go back in time and change what we have done. What we can do is attempt to change our negative habits and actions from this point forward. Yes, you have sinned against your wife and your daughters, and by extension against the Lord who gave you a position of authority over Longbourn and your family and tenants. But many of the greatest men in the Scriptures sinned grievously. Those who sought God and repented were welcomed back. You know your family loves you. By all means, apologize for your failings, but set aside your guilt and move forward, for everyone’s sake, including your own. Dwelling on your guilt will not lead you down a path that is fruitful, but forgiveness and repentance, hard as it may be, will.”

The other man sat gazing into the fire for a full five minutes before nodding gravely, “You are correct, of course, sir. My inclination is to be selfish again, to retreat into wine to bury my failings, but that would be for my benefit, not theirs.”

“Precisely,” Mr. Allen declared.

/

“Miss Bennet?”

“Yes, Emily?”

“Mr. Bingley has arrived and is asking to see you.”

Jane and Elizabeth, who had risen late after the previous night’s frolicking at Lucas Lodge, exchanged startled looks. It was still a full hour before formal visiting hours, and they were not yet even dressed. The rest of the ladies were also asleep, leaving the mansion silent with anticipation.

Elizabeth shook herself from her stupor and nodded at the maid, “Please tell Mr. Bingley that Miss Bennet will be downstairs in a few minutes, and send Sarah to help with Miss Bennet’s hair.”

“Yes, Miss.”

Jane found herself trembling slightly and looked worriedly into the mirror, fearful that her face was unbecomingly pale.

“You look lovely, dear Jane,” her sister declared, understanding her precious sister without words. With a excitement in her eyes, she continued, “Come, let us get you dressed.”

/

Bingley, who had been pacing nervously in the parlor, jumped when the door finally opened and Miss Bennet, dressed in a gray morning gown, entered the room with Miss Elizabeth at her side.

“Miss Bennet, Miss Eliz ... lizabeth,” he stuttered.

“Mr. Bingley,” the two women chorused, curtseying gravely.

“Will you not sit down, Mr. Bingley?” Jane asked, gesturing at one of the chairs. “May I order some tea?”

Bingley took a deep breath, “I was hoping, Miss Bennet, whether I might ... I might have a private word with you.”

Elizabeth patted her sister’s arm joyfully and rose to her feet, “Of course, Mr. Bingley. I will be in the hall to make sure you are not interrupted.

She glided out of the room and took up a position in the hall, intent on preventing any disruptions during this most important interview.

Jane, who had watched her sister depart, turned to discover that Bingley was on one knee before her. She flushed in surprise as a smile lit up her lovely face. Bingley leaned a little closer, his voice shaking with nerves and passion.

“Miss Bennet, I worry that today’s proposal might seem an inopportune time, coming as it does on the heels of the news that you will inherit Longbourn …”

She raised her hand in distress at these words, then dropped it as he continued fervently, “But I love you, not your prospective wealth, not your status, but you. You are the most handsome woman of my acquaintance, but it is your kindness, your generosity of spirit, your sweet temperament which has drawn me to you like a moth to flame. Miss Bennet, will you accept my hand in marriage?”

She must speak now, “Mr. Bingley, before I answer your question, I must inform you that there is a strong chance that I will not inherit the estate. My father is not obligated to will it to me as his eldest, and Elizabeth is far better suited to administer Longbourn after my father is gone.”

His reply was swift and fervent, “It matters not a whit, Miss Bennet. I care nothing either way. If you inherit, I will do everything I can to be a good master to Longbourn. If not, we will enjoy companionship and love at Netherfield or elsewhere. I care not if you inherit, I only care for you.”

“Then yes,” she responded, and tears fell from her eyes. “Yes, I accept your offer of marriage.”

/

“Oh, Jane!!!!!” Mrs. Bennet shrieked, so loudly that Elizabeth was tempted to clap her hands over her ears. “Oh my dear, I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing. Four thousand pounds a year and very likely more! Such a handsome gentleman and so very kind. I declare I will go distracted!”

Elizabeth was too happy to be particularly distressed at her mother’s screeching; she thought Mr. Bingley and Jane were entirely compatible, and her elder sister’s face was aglow with joy. She was also pleased that Bingley had proposed to Jane, spoke to Mr. Bennet to win his approval of the match, and returned to Netherfield before Mrs. Bennet came downstairs. Thus, her dear sister’s fiancé was not exposed to their mother’s vulgar ecstasies.

“You must be married as soon as possible, Jane! And your clothes, your wedding clothes! Elizabeth, we must arrange for clothes for your sister ...”

/

Fitzwilliam Darcy grimly clumped a few more steps before sinking with relief onto a simple wooden bench just inside the main stable door.

“Mr. Darcy!” Bingley’s coachman exclaimed in surprise. “Do you need the carriage, sir?”

“No, not at all,” Darcy assured the man. “I merely have been confined to the house too long with this ankle of mine, and decided to visit my horse. It was farther to the stables than I remembered, but crutches seem to extend distances almost magically. How is Galileo?”

“He is very well, sir. We let him out to the near pasture this morning but we can bring him in if you like.”

“No, that is quite all right. I will try to catch a glimpse of him in a few minutes.”

There was a sudden cacophony of barking, followed by the patter of dog feet, and Maxwell tore around the corner and ran up to Darcy, his tail wagging furiously.

“Maxwell, my old friend,” the gentleman proclaimed. “How very good to see you on this fine morning.”

The dog panted moistly in his face and while the odor was not particularly pleasant, Darcy found he could not care.

“He is very fond of you, sir,” the coachman proclaimed as a stable boy raced around the corner and then halted in chagrin.

“I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. He got away from me again.”

Darcy rubbed the spaniel’s floppy ears, producing moans of canine pleasure, “That is quite all right.”

The sudden clopping of horse’s hoofs fell upon their ears and the stable boy dashed out the door to welcome the newcomer.

Darcy turned his head curiously at the sound of Bingley’s voice; he had not seen his friend at the breakfast table, but had assumed that the man was still abed after a late night at the Lucases.

“Darcy!” Bingley exclaimed, striding into the stable, his face rapturous with joy. “You must congratulate me! Miss Bennet accepted my hand in marriage!”

Darcy grunted in astonishment and concern, but thankfully both the coachman and the stable boy spoke up with their own felicitations, which gave Pemberley’s master a moment to collect himself. He had not expected Bingley to take such a step without consulting him, but the deed was done and Bingley was committed to Miss Bennet. The lady was, at least, a charming woman, even if Darcy had some apprehension that she did not truly love his friend. But there was no reason to pour ice water on the Bingley’s ardent enthusiasm.

“Congratulations!” he said, deliberately infusing his tone with warmth. “She is a lovely woman.”

“She is indeed,” Bingley enthused, “I consider myself the most fortunate of men. But come, I did not expect to see you out here. I see you and Maxwell are enjoying one another’s company.”

“We are, but then Maxwell is a friendly dog.”

“Friendlier with you than me,” Bingley returned jovially. “Indeed, I think you have stolen his affections away from me, but I find I cannot care today. How is your ankle?”

“It aches considerably, but I am able to put more weight on it with time, so that is all to the good.”

“Everything is good today,” his friend replied sincerely. “Everything is bright and beautiful!”

/

_Author note: I really appreciate all of you reading and commenting. It definitely helps me to stay motivated. *smile*_

_If you haven’t taken a look at my latest book,_ The Enigmatic Mr. Collins, _please do. Not that many people have been reading or buying it on Amazon *sad face*, but the ones who do have really enjoyed it as it currently has the highest average rating of any of my books. If you subscribe to Kindle Unlimited, you can even read it for free! (Many don’t realize this, but authors do get paid when people read their books via Kindle Unlimited.)_


	21. Chapter 21

## Chapter 21

“Well, Bingley wasted no time,” Captain Denny commented.

George Wickham, who was standing at ease on the village green while Colonel Forster drilled the militia’s common soldiers, turned apprehensively toward his friend, “What do you mean?”

“Bingley offered for Miss Bennet this morning and was accepted.”

“No!” cried out Mr. Pratt, who was on the other side of Denny.

“Yes, indeed. Well, it was to be expected, I suppose. Bingley was already paying Miss Bennet a great deal of attention, and now that she is an heiress, he obviously felt it was time to offer, especially after everyone and his brother was swirling around Miss Bennet last night at Lucas Lodge.”

“I suppose there was not much hope for any of us,” Pratt commented dismally.

George Wickham cursed inwardly. He knew of Charles Bingley and his casual approach to life. He had thought the man too relaxed an individual to perceive the dangers of waiting to offer for Miss Bennet. Obviously, he was wrong. However ...

“Is it a certainty that Miss Bennet will inherit?” he asked nonchalantly.

Denny frowned, “That is what Mrs. Bennet says, and presumably she knows. I heard the news from one of the militia’s stable boys, who is interested in one of Mrs. Long’s maids, who heard the news from the lady of Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet is apparently making the rounds of Meryton society, crowing over her daughter’s success. Bingley is worth a clear 4000 pounds a year and is by all accounts a genial man. It is a good match.”

“And all this came about after the entail lapsed due to the death of Mr. Collins?” Wickham continued carelessly.

“That is right.”

Wickham nodded and turned his gaze back to the market square, his mind working busily. He had briefly studied law a few years before, and while most of his meager knowledge had faded away, he had retained pertinent facts about entails and inheritances. If the entail was at an end, then Mr. Bennet was not required by law to will the estate to his eldest child. If Wickham could find some way to manipulate Mr. Bennet into bequeathing the estate to another daughter, and marry that daughter, well then, he would eventually find himself the master of a fine, if small, estate. 

Miss Elizabeth, the second born, was a most handsome young lady, as well as being lively and intelligent, and would make a fine wife. As an added bonus, Darcy was attracted to the same lady. If Wickham could entice the girl into marriage and convince Bennet to make Elizabeth his heiress, it would be a satisfying act of revenge against the man who had deprived him of his rightful livelihood. On the other hand, tangling with Darcy was a rather risky business. He would need to think more on the matter.

“We are released from duty, Wickham,” Denny commented, shaking his preoccupied friend by the arm. 

“My apologies, Denny, I was woolgathering.”

/

“I intend to ride to London the day after tomorrow, Darcy, to arrange for the marriage settlements. You are, of course, welcome to come if you like.”

“How long will you be in London?” Darcy inquired, laying aside his book, one he had borrowed from Longbourn. They were ensconced cozily in the east sitting room, quite alone, as the Hursts had already retired for the night.

“I would say that it will take all of three days to arrange for the documents. I will speak again to Mr. Bennet on the morrow, and we will make the final arrangements, though based on our initial discussion after I offered for Miss Bennet, he will not be difficult to please.”

“He is a fortunate man to have you as his daughter’s suitor. Given his drinking, many a man would take advantage of him.’

Bingley shook his head, “He was quite alert when I spoke to him, and he told me that he is reducing his drinking substantially.”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose, “Is he indeed? That is admirable.”

“It is,” Bingley agreed, his eyes glazing over in what was now a familiar way. Darcy lapsed into silence, aware that his friend’s mind had flitted to a beautiful blonde lady with cerulean eyes.

He gazed into the fire thoughtfully, only to discover some minutes later that he too was imagining a lady, but this one was petite, dark haired and boasted a most vibrant countenance. 

Miss Elizabeth Bennet was entirely charming, intelligent, gracious, hardworking and lovely. He was, he admitted to himself, far more attracted to her than he had ever been to another woman. On the other hand, she was but the second daughter of a country gentlemen, and she had ties to trade. She was truly not an appropriate bride for a Darcy of Pemberley, but the more he fought his attraction to her, the more it seemed to grow.

“Bingley?”

“Yes?” 

“I do not care to go to London as my ankle would likely not appreciate the jolting. I do have a request for you. Would you permit my sister Georgiana to visit Netherfield?”

Bingley gazed at him in surprise, “Of course! It would be delightful to have Miss Darcy here!”

“Thank you! I have another request; would you be willing to deliver a letter to my sister, and if she is agreeable, bring her and her companion, Mrs. Annesley, back to Netherfield when you return?”

“With pleasure! I daresay you long to see her.”

“I miss her very much,” Darcy admitted, “and I know from her last letter that she misses me as well. It is closing in on the Christmas season, and thus she will be laying aside her studies shortly anyway.”

“I am certain Louisa would thoroughly enjoy another lady in the house,” Bingley said heartily, “and I am quite certain that Miss Darcy will like Jane.”

Darcy inclined his head in response and turned his attention back to the crackling fire. He did ache for Georgiana, and now that Miss Bingley was gone, he knew his shy sister would enjoy her time at Netherfield. In the past, Caroline Bingley had hovered over Georgiana in a thoroughly exhausting and irritating way, and thus Darcy had not considered inviting his sister.

Georgiana was his primary responsibility given that their parents had already passed through Heaven’s gates. He knew that his marriage would be important to her, and perhaps with her in the house, he would forget Elizabeth Bennet.

Or perhaps, his traitorous mind suggested, he would conclude that compatibility, intelligence, and kindness were far more important than wealth and connections. 

/  
  


Darcy realized that he had been reading without any meaningful comprehension and lifted his head up with a sigh. Bingley had been gone two days and would return either tomorrow or the next, and Darcy found himself full of a most unaccustomed state of excitement. He was confident that Georgiana would accept Bingley’s invitation and now, with their reunion on the near horizon, Darcy realized how eagerly he desired to see her. Georgiana was the only near family he had left in this world, and it had been too long since he and she had spent much time together. 

A strident feminine voice caught Darcy’s attention, and he glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was already after eleven o’clock. He knew that Miss Bennet was planning to come over to Netherfield this morning to tour the mansion with Mrs. Hurst, who was obviously enthusiastic about the upcoming marriage between her brother and Miss Bennet.

The library door flung open and Mrs. Hurst entered, her head turned to the side, “This is the library, of course, Miss Bennet …”

She trailed away as she caught sight of Darcy and she colored in embarrassment, “I am so sorry, Mr. Darcy. I did not realize you were here.”

Darcy rose carefully to his feet, his heart in his throat as he observed that Miss Bennet had brought along her next younger sister, “That is quite all right, Mrs. Hurst. Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, it is pleasant to see you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bennet replied gracefully as all three Bennet ladies curtseyed. 

“It is a library like many other libraries, obviously,” Louisa Hurst declared with a general wave of one arm.

“Well, it is nothing like Father’s library,” Elizabeth declared with a roguish twinkle in her eye. “There are very few books!”

Darcy chuckled aloud at this and nodded, “I fear my friend is not a great reader.”

“Neither am I, Mr. Darcy,” Jane Bennet replied with good humor. “It is yet another way that Mr. Bingley and I are well matched.”

Mrs. Bennet, who clearly had been holding her tongue with difficulty, launched into speech, “I always say that the library is the least important room, my dear, when one is mistress to an establishment. The kitchen, for example …”

“Yes, by all means let us tour the kitchen,” Mrs. Hurst agreed, retreating out of the room with Miss Bennet and her mother in her wake.

Elizabeth lingered for a moment, “I am glad to see you are able to stand again, Mr. Darcy. I hope that means your ankle is nearly healed?”

“It is much better, though it aches if I stand too long,” he announced, lowering himself carefully onto the chair. “Mr. Jones is quite certain it was merely sprained, not broken. I find myself able to walk on it a little more each day, and I hope to be able to ride again soon.”

Elizabeth glanced briefly at the library door to assure herself that it was open, and then strolled over to gaze at a nearby bookcase, “I see he has Tamburlaine, which is at least somewhat unusual. My father does not own a copy.”

“That is a lone swan in a flock of geese,” Darcy said with a chuckle. “The library is pitiful for a true scholar, but Bingley has no great interest in books. I am thankful for your father’s willingness to share a few of his own volumes; they have helped wile away many an hour while I have been coddling my wretched ankle.”

Elizabeth chuckled and turned to face him, “I seem to remember Miss Bingley extolling the glories of the Pemberley library.”

“Yes, it is magnificent. My grandfather, my father, and I have all worked to add to it through the generations.”

“Do you miss Pemberley, Mr. Darcy?”

“I do. It is the home of my childhood, and while I am enjoying my time here in Hertfordshire with Bingley, I always find myself most at peace at my estate.”

Elizabeth nodded, her lips quirking enticingly, “That is entirely understandable, Mr. Darcy. You are a good landlord and master, and thus Pemberley is not just your home, but also your responsibility and thus a part of who you are as a man. ”

He gazed at her and struggled to control his breathing at the sight of her radiance. She was so vigorous and lively, so unlike the sophisticated debutants in London.

“You are entirely correct on that account,” he said, pleased that his tone was calm.

“I am certain Mr. Bingley is most thankful for your willingness to assist him here at Netherfield, especially since he found himself a wife along with an estate.”

Darcy peered at her with interest, “Yes, and please accept my congratulations on the engagement.”

The lady’s cheerful expression bloomed into joyful incandescence, “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. We are all so thrilled for Jane; she is such a kind soul, and she loves Mr. Bingley dearly. They will be happy together. I confess I was somewhat concerned to see all those militia officers flocking about Jane last night at Lucas Lodge; she is such a generous person that she believes the best of almost everyone, whereas I am of the view that the officers’ interest was more in her fortune than her person.”

Darcy hoped he successfully hid his surprise at his companion’s words. Miss Bennet loved Bingley? He had seen no more than genial good humor toward his friend, but Miss Elizabeth would know her elder sister’s heart.

“I have no doubt you are correct about the officers.” Darcy agreed, “Based on my admittedly limited interactions with them, I doubt any of them are as good hearted as my friend.”

“Oh, you are entirely right about that. Jane was not truly attracted to any of them, but Lieutenant Wickham, for example, has a magnetic charm to him which no doubt has captivated many a lady.”

Darcy, who had been watching Miss Elizabeth with fascination, felt as if he had suddenly been doused with ice water.

“Mr. George Wickham?” he demanded in horror, surging to his feet.


	22. Chapter 22

## Chapter 22

“Please do sit down, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth suggested with concern. Darcy was rather pale and swaying slightly, and he sank back into the chair, his eyes focused intently on hers.

“This Wickham, is he tall, with dark blond hair and blue eyes?”

“Yes, and he is the man you are thinking of, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied. “I forgot that when we met, he mentioned that he grew up near Pemberley.”

Darcy’s breath was coming fast now as he sought to control his emotions. Wickham here, and Georgiana on her way to Netherfield!

“Did he say anything else about me?” he demanded, more harshly than he intended.

Elizabeth brow was puckered with confusion but she answered quickly, “No, only that he grew up at Pemberley. I gathered from his words that he hardly knew you since he was the son of your father’s steward.”

Darcy grimaced, “That was a prevarication on his part, though I am not surprised. He was also my father’s godson, and we grew up playing together.”

“Oh!”

“Yes. As you probably have gathered from my reaction, we are not on good terms now.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Elizabeth replied cautiously. She was extremely curious, but it would be indelicate to probe any further.

“I am as well,” the gentleman replied, his color and breathing returning to normal. “I dislike accusing a man who is not here to defend himself, but I feel I must warn you that he is an ignoble individual. He leaves debts and ... is not honorable in his relations with women.”

Elizabeth was horrified, “That is dreadful! How did it happen that the regiment accepted such a vile man into its midst?”

Darcy sighed, “Wickham was educated at Cambridge and has the manners and features of a true gentleman. Many men and women have assumed that his outward appearance reflected a noble heart, only to be gravely disappointed.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, “If that is true, you must warn the people of Meryton that Mr. Wickham is dangerous.”

Darcy grimaced and shook his head, “There is a young lady of my acquaintance, a friend of the family, of whom Wickham took advantage. He holds her reputation in his hands.”

Elizabeth winced. She well knew how easily a woman’s life could be damaged by gossip and slander, “I understand, Mr. Darcy. But something must be done to protect the people of Meryton.”

Darcy stared at her in dismay. He understood her perspective, but Georgiana must be protected at all costs.

Elizabeth was gazing at the floor, deep in thought. A full three minutes later, she lifted her head, “You said he leaves debts. Do you think he is likely to do so here in Meryton?”

Darcy suppressed a scoff, “Without a doubt, Miss Elizabeth. In fact ... how long has he been here?”

“A few weeks. I daresay you would have met him before if your ankle had not kept you close to Netherfield. As I said, he was at Lucas Lodge a few nights ago, but you were in the sitting room and thus did not encounter him.”

“He will have debts, then,” Darcy replied, struggling to remain calm. What would he have done if he had come across Wickham unexpectedly? His inclination, admittedly an ungentlemanly one, would have been to punch the man in the face. “It is not a question of mere carelessness, you understand; it is a deliberate decision on his part to consistently live above his means and move on before his debtors realize he does not intend to pay.”

“Why has he not been sent to debtors’ prison then?”

Darcy sighed, “In the early years after my father died, I paid Wickham’s debts out of a misguided sense of loyalty to my father, who loved him and never knew of his degenerate behavior. I also worried about the merchants to whom he owed money; I am aware that ten pounds can be the difference between insolvency and prosperity.” 

“That was kind of you, Mr. Darcy. I will speak to my uncle, Mr. Phillips, on the matter of Wickham’s past debts, and I will take care not to mention your name. He is a sensible man, and I am certain we can come up with a plan to keep Meryton safe from this vile man.”

“That seems like a good scheme,” Darcy returned, though fear still clutched his heart. Above all else, his dear Georgiana must not suffer because of his failure to protect her.

/

“Georgiana!” Darcy cried out, helping his sister out of the carriage and then pulling her into a loving embrace. “My dear, it is so good to see you!”

“I am very glad to see you too, Brother,” she replied, returning his affection with fervor. “Mrs. Hurst, thank you for being my hostess at Netherfield.”

“It is our pleasure,” Louisa Hurst assured her. Darcy had noticed that Mrs. Hurst, now out from the shadow of her demanding younger sister, was a much more genial companion.

“Welcome to Netherfield, Mrs. Annesley,” Bingley declared, helping Georgiana’s paid companion out of the carriage.

“Please come inside, and we will get you settled in your rooms so you can freshen up,” Louisa enthused. 

Darcy smiled at his sister, “I will see you shortly. I wish to have a word with John and Jacob.”

She nodded and walked toward the house while Darcy strolled over to the footmen who had, at his request, returned to Netherfield with Georgiana and Bingley. The twins were retainers of the Darcy family, dark haired and blue eyed, tall and strong. As soon as he had learned of Wickham’s presence in the region, Darcy had sent an express to Darcy House in London ordering John and Jacob to accompany his sister and Bingley back to Netherfield. He would not permit Georgiana to be endangered again by his old friend, now enemy.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the twins chorused.

“I wished to speak to you of something of import regarding Miss Darcy’s safety,” he continued, lowering his voice. “I know you are familiar with George Wickham ...”

/

“You are certain of this information, Lizzy?” Mr. Phillips asked quietly.

Elizabeth took a moment to glance around her uncle’s office, which was a simple room with a desk, a chair, and a number of practical books of business. Her uncle was a well-established solicitor but his income was not nearly that of a landed gentleman like Mr. Bennet. His home was therefore pleasant but not opulent.

“I am absolutely certain,” she assured him. “I promised I would not identify the individual who told me of Mr. Wickham’s depredations, but I trust the facts provided.”

The solicitor sighed and shook his head, “This is most unfortunate, my dear. We have welcomed the militia to Meryton with enthusiasm and kindness, and it is discouraging to hear that there is now a man in our midst who is prone to racking up debts he does not intend to pay. Well, what do you wish for me to do?”

“I was hoping that perhaps you might ask the various merchants whether there are particular officers who owe significant sums of money. If you tally the amounts and discover, as I suspect, that Wickham is seriously in debt, you can warn everyone of the problem.”

“Or possibly talk to Colonel Forster himself. Yes, that is an excellent idea, Elizabeth. Leave it in my hands.”

“I will,” his niece replied gratefully. Her father was making improvements and was now mostly sober much of the day, but she still trusted her Uncle Phillips to manage this matter more competently than Mr. Bennet.

She glanced outside, noting that the sun of late autumn was hovering near the western horizon. She wished to be home by nightfall and thus needed to collect her sisters to depart soon.

“Thank you again, Uncle.”

“It is my pleasure. By the way, how is Mr. Bennet?”

“He is a good deal better, for which we are most grateful. Father has cut down on his drinking substantially and is interesting himself in the estate again. I know there are times when he feels poorly, apparently from reducing his intake of wine.”

“Please tell him that I will be visiting Longbourn soon to discuss the disposition of the estate.”

“I will,” she assured him as she departed. She stopped briefly in the corridor to collect herself before walking into the drawing room where all of her sisters but Jane were visiting with their aunt Phillips.

“There you are, Lizzy!” her aunt cried out, her plump face beaming with enthusiasm. “My dear, you remember Mr. Wickham and Mr. Denny, of course!”

Elizabeth froze at the sight in front of her. Mary and Lydia were seated side by side on the couch with Mr. Denny sitting across from them, and Mr. Wickham had placed himself near Kitty, who was smiling shyly at the man.

At her entrance, the men both rose and bowed, and Elizabeth curtsied mechanically.

“Miss Elizabeth!” Wickham exclaimed, his expression winsome. “How wonderful to see you this fine afternoon!”

Years of training stood the gentlewoman in good stead, “It is pleasant to see you as well, Mr. Wickham, Mr. Denny. I hope you are well?”

Denny nodded and Wickham shifted slightly, intent on showing off his fine figure in a red coat.

“It is far better now that you have joined us, Miss Elizabeth,” he declared. “May I congratulate you, as I have already congratulated your sisters, on Miss Bennet’s engagement to Mr. Bingley?”

“Thank you. We are all very happy for Jane. She and Mr. Bingley are much attached and will be happy together.”

“I am sure they will,” Denny agreed heartily.

“Do sit down, Lizzy, do!” Mrs. Phillips insisted, “The gentlemen only arrived a few minutes ago!”

Elizabeth had a strong desire to sweep her sisters out of the door but that would not do; it would be suspicious when most of the women in Meryton fawned over the officers in general and Mr. Wickham in particular. 

“We will need to leave in a few minutes,” she cautioned, as she sat down protectively next to Kitty, “as I do not care to be out after dark.”

“We will relish our short time with you then, Miss Elizabeth,” Wickham assured her, his soulful blue eyes gazing directly into her own brown orbs.

“I am sure you will,” she replied archly. “Tell me, what is your favorite part of being in the militia?” 

“Oh, the society, most definitely, Miss Elizabeth.”

/

“He is very charming, is he not?” Kitty enthused as the carriage wended its way back toward Longbourn.

The sun’s last rays were just peeking over the horizon, and thus Elizabeth could barely see her youngest sister’s face. Her tone was alarming, however.

“Who?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Mr. Wickham, of course! Mr. Denny is pleasant as well, no doubt, but he does not hold a candle to Lieutenant Wickham.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth in protest, and then shut it. She must warn her sisters of the danger associated with Wickham, but she would wait until they were all safely ensconced in Lydia’s room tonight.

/

“I still think it would be far better to be married by license,” Mrs. Bennet said for at least the tenth time. “It is more distinguished than merely calling the banns.”

Jane Bennet rose to her feet and smiled at her mother in spite of some irritation. When Mrs. Bennet embraced an idea, she fixated on it like a dog on a bone.

“Mama, we have discussed this before. I wish for my aunt and uncle Gardiner and their children to be here for the wedding, and the earliest they can come is the 21st of December. The banns will be called the third time on the 22nd, and we will be married on the 23rd. There is no reason to purchase a license.”

Mrs. Bennet huffed but did not protest and Jane took her silence as permission to depart. The eldest daughter of the house walked quickly up the stairs toward her own room, only to stop at Lydia’s door, which was wide open to reveal the beloved figures of her sisters sitting picturesquely grouped on Lydia’s large bed.

“Are we having a conference?” Jane asked curiously.

Elizabeth nodded and rose to her feet, shutting the door behind her older sister.

“Yes, we are. Girls, I gathered you together to warn you all to be on your guard with the officers of the militia. I know they seem entirely genteel and honorable, but I recently heard that some are known to take advantage of young women ...”


	23. Chapter 23

##  Chapter 23

“Miss Darcy, Mrs. Annesley,” Bingley said in a clearly excited tone, “may I please introduce you to my fiancée, Miss Bennet and her younger sister, Miss Elizabeth? Jane, Elizabeth, Miss Darcy and her companion, Mrs. Annesley.”

The four ladies bobbed curtsies at one another and Jane smiled at the taller, younger blonde lady, “Miss Darcy, we have so looked forward to meeting you. Mrs. Hurst tells me that you are a great adept on the pianoforte!”

Miss Darcy blushed furiously at these words and cast a frantic look at her brother. Darcy smiled reassuringly at her, “Indeed, Georgiana loves to play and spends many hours a day honing her skill on the instrument. Is that not so, Mrs. Annesley?”

“Indeed she does,” the older woman agreed cheerfully. “She puts me to shame with her devotion.”

“Come, let us sit down,” Louisa Hurst suggested, “and we will have tea.”

Jane sat down next to Mr. Bingley, whereas Elizabeth and Georgiana found themselves side by side on another couch.

“My sister Mary and I both enjoy playing the pianoforte as well, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth declared, “though I do not spend enough time practicing. Tell me, what is one of your favorite composers?”

“I adore Mozart,” Georgiana replied, her color still heightened, “though many of his compositions are difficult.”

“Oh my, yes!” Elizabeth agreed. “I too appreciate his work, though I largely play far simpler pieces.”

“What think you of Beethoven, Miss Darcy?” Louisa Hurst inquired. “I quite adore some of his bagatelles!”

“Oh yes, Mrs. Hurst!” Georgiana responded happily. “I do as well!”

The musical conversation became animated between all the ladies except for Miss Bennet, who turned to Mr. Bingley and engaged in low, apparently lovelorn conversation based on the smiles of both. Darcy, standing to one side, found he could not look away from Elizabeth Bennet’s animated countenance. Georgiana was an incredibly shy creature and struggled mightily when meeting new acquaintances. It was a miracle that was already chatting so happily with Miss Elizabeth.

/

“What think you of Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked of his sister. 

Dinner had, once again, been a pleasant affair with Miss Bingley no longer present to voice waspish barbs about the inhabitants of Meryton and Longbourn. The Bennet ladies had both stayed for dinner and left immediately afterwards, allowing Darcy and Georgiana to retreat to her sitting room for some time alone after so many weeks apart.

“Miss Bennet is quite the most handsome woman I have ever met,” Georgiana replied immediately, “and it seems she is very much in love with Mr. Bingley.”

“Do you think so?” Darcy asked curiously. He had accepted by now that his reading of Miss Bennet was faulty, but he still did not see true attachment in the serene countenance of Bingley’s fiancée.

“Her eyes never strayed far from his face,” Georgiana commented, “and when she spoke of him, she appeared to glow.”

“I see. And what of Miss Elizabeth?”

“Oh, Brother, she is such a kindly person, and quickly made me feel so at ease. I like her very much.”

“I am glad,” Darcy exclaimed, which attracted a startled glance from his sister, a look which shifted into one of understanding.

“My dear Fitzwilliam, you are attracted to Miss Elizabeth!”

He opened his mouth to protest and then shut it, struck dumb by her knowing look.

“Now how could you possibly know that, dear sister,” he inquired ruefully.

“Fitzwilliam, you mentioned Miss Elizabeth in every single letter you wrote to me. She seems a most admirable person, and of course I will always be grateful that she rescued you after you injured your foot. Speaking of that, how are you feeling? I see that you are using your crutches sometimes but not always?”

“Yes, there are times when my ankle aches ferociously, generally after I have been walking on it too long. I have found, too, that since I favor that ankle, the rest of my body hurts from limping. Thus, I use the crutches at least some each day. Still, I am much improved and Mr. Allen, the local apothecary who has been treating me, has given me permission to start riding Galileo tomorrow, though I had to promise him that I would not fall off.”

His sister laughed and surged forward to wrap affectionate arms around him, “I missed you so much, Brother. I am most happy to be here.”

“I am happy you are here as well, but now I have some difficult news.”

“What is it?”

“I discovered only yesterday that George Wickham is living in the nearby village of Meryton.”

Georgiana gasped in distress and Darcy pulled her close for another quick hug, “Do not be afraid, my dear. I have not seen him once in my time in Hertfordshire and only discovered his presence by chance. Nonetheless, I thought I should warn you in case you happen to glimpse him. I do not believe he would dare approach you, but for your safety, I had John and Jacob accompany you here. They will always be near you when you are out of the house.”

“I wondered why you had ordered them to come,” his sister murmured.

Silence fell for a few minutes before Georgiana spoke again, “I will be well, Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Annesley has been a great help to me these last months as I have considered all that came to pass at Ramsgate. Yes, it was a great mistake on my part, but all I can do is learn from my failures and look forward to a happy future, one in which I am not tied by marriage to a miscreant.”

“You were placed in a most untenable situation, sweetling. I should have scrutinized Mrs. Younge more carefully; if I had, I would have discovered that her references were false, which would have protected you from her conspiracy with Wickham. With her encouragement, it is not surprising that you thought yourself in love with the rogue, especially since I failed you by not telling you earlier of his vicious propensities and want of principle.”

There was self-loathing in his tone, and his sister, after gazing at him searchingly, reached out a tender hand to touch his arm, “My dear brother, I see that you need to forgive yourself as much, or more, than I do. You did what you thought best at the time, and it is hardly your nature to cast foul aspersions on your fellows! Mrs. Annesley, who is quite a student of the Holy Book, reminded me more than once that some of God’s greatest men and women fell short mightily. If King David could steal another man’s wife, and the Apostle Paul celebrate as Stephen was stoned, can we not accept God’s grace and forgiveness and be at peace?”

He stared at her in awe, “When did you become so very wise, my dear?”

/

George Wickham placed two linen handkerchiefs on the counter and gestured toward the bottles of spirits up on the shelves.

“Give me a bottle of your good gin, if you would, Mr. Alcott,” he requested of the elderly grocer, even as he disparagingly eyed the man’s liquor collection. The best gin in this backwater of a town was nothing compared to the delightful wines and brandies available in London, but he could not ask for something expensive for fear that the shopkeeper would require him to settle the sum immediately.

“You will need to pay off your account before you purchase anything else here,” the grocer replied implacably. “You and the other officers owe too much.”

Wickham forced himself to smile winningly, “My dear sir, I assure you that I am an honorable gentleman and I pay my debts.”

“That is not what I heard,” Alcott stated. “Pay or leave, Lieutenant Wickham, I do not care, but not another bottle or kerchief will you purchase before you pay what you owe.”

“Very well,” Wickham said, assuming a haughty expression. “I am temporarily without adequate funds, but will return tomorrow to settle my account.”

“As you wish,” Alcott declared indifferently.

Wickham, his head held high, departed from the shop and began cursing thoroughly under his breath. There was only one man in the area who knew of his penchant for racking up debts with merchants and shopkeepers, and that was Fitzwilliam Darcy, but would Pemberley’s master lower himself to warn mere shopkeepers?

It seemed unlikely, but there was no other obvious explanation unless, perhaps, some of the officers to whom he owed gaming debts had mentioned his insolvency?

That was also possible.

He could do nothing about his fellow officers except to start winning at cards, but Darcy ... he could certainly do something about Darcy.

/

Mr. Bennet and Mr. Phillips sat down next to the fire in the library at Longbourn, and Bennet looked around with thanksgiving. The worst of his discomfort from abstaining from wine was at an end, and the world seemed a much brighter place now that he was no longer drunk most of the time.

“Elizabeth will inherit Longbourn under certain provisions,” Mr. Bennet informed his brother and solicitor.

Phillips took a sip of honey sweetened tea and spoke, “Not Jane?”

“Not Jane.”

“It is of course your right to will Longbourn as you wish, but why not Jane?”

“Jane is affianced, shortly to be married, to a wealthy and generous man in Mr. Bingley. Bingley does not need Longbourn. Elizabeth has fewer prospects for marriage and has been overseeing the estate for many months with great aptitude. It seems obvious that it should go to Elizabeth.”

“Does Jane know of your decision? Does Mr. Bingley?” Phillips asked with some concern.

“They are both aware that Longbourn might go to someone other than my eldest daughter; indeed, Jane encouraged me to will the estate to Elizabeth.”

The solicitor relaxed, “Very good. I merely wished to be certain that there would be no hard feelings on the matter. What are the provisions you mentioned?”

“Elizabeth will only inherit so long as she is still single when I pass on, or, if she is married, her husband must agree to change his surname to Bennet. If she marries and her husband will not change his name, the estate will instead go to Mary, with the same proviso, going down the line to Lydia, who, if it comes to that, will inherit regardless of her husband’s decision regarding his surname.”

Phillips nodded approvingly, “An excellent plan.”


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Lady Catherine de Bourgh, seated on her well-padded blue chair in her favorite parlor, stared out over the rolling fields to the north of her precious Rosings. The December sun was at its zenith and a small luncheon would be served in thirty minutes; after the meal, her servants would begin decorating the great house for the Christmas season. Rosings was always the very epitome of elegance, but at Christmas, the great manse rivaled Carlton House, the abode of the Prince Regent itself. No money or effort was spared in putting up the holly and other appropriate decorations. It was a pity, really, that there were so few worthy individuals in this region of Kent; she liked showing off her manor.

She did not even have the pleasure of visiting with her local clergyman because the former rector, Mr. Collins, had stupidly fallen off a horse and died, all while visiting his cousin's family in Hertfordshire. If she had ever ridden a horse, she would have done it perfectly and never fallen off! For now, a local curate was giving sermons on Holy Days, but Lady Catherine had no intention of giving the man the living at Hunsford. He was far too proud a man, young Mr. Smythe, and not nearly respectful enough of her position of authority. The man had actually dared to preach a sermon without first showing it to Lady Catherine for approval!

"Your mail, Lady Catherine," her butler said, holding out a silver tray upon which reposed a few sealed letters.

She nodded to him in dismissal and looked at the top letter, which was, she observed, from her sister by marriage, Lady Matlock. She would look at that one later; no doubt Rachel Fitzwilliam was writing to gossip about the latest marital triumph in the extended family.

The second letter was from her nephew Darcy, which provoked a huff of exasperation. She had invited Darcy to Rosings for Christmas and as usual been turned down. When was the young man going to offer for her daughter? It was high time for Darcy to settle down with Anne – the girl was not growing younger – and it was time for the two great estates of Rosings and Pemberley to unite in marriage!

The third letter was written in an unfamiliar, masculine hand, which was most bewildering. It could not be a tradesman; all sordid details involving bills were handled by her steward.

Curiously, she slit the wax seal with her paper knife and spread it open.

_December 15th, 1811_

_Meryton, Hertfordshire_

_To the Magnificent Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Mistress of Rosings in Kent,_

_I do ask your pardon, my lady, for having the temerity to write to you in this bold manner. My name is Mr. George Wickham, and I am lieutenant in his Royal Majesty's militia._

_I do not presume that you would remember a mere commoner like myself; I am the son of Mr. Ezra Wickham, who served as Pemberley's steward under the noble direction of Mr. George Darcy, who was my godfather._

_For the benefit of the British Empire, I am serving in the militia, and my regiment is currently established in the small town of Meryton in Hertfordshire. In the last days, I have discovered something of grave concern to all those who care for the future of Pemberley._

_There is a small estate named Longbourn near Meryton, home to Mr. Bennet and his five unmarried daughters. I have heard through reliable sources that Mr. Bennet's previous heir was a man named Mr. Collins, who had the honor of serving you as rector at Hunsford._

_Tragically, Mr. Collins is dead, supposedly after a fall from a horse owned by the second of the spinsters, a young woman named Elizabeth Bennet._

_It is with the greatest reluctance that I suggest that Mr. Collins's death might not have been an accident; with his death, the entail on Longbourn has ended, which is obviously to the benefit of the Bennet daughters._

_With even greater reluctance I must tell you that I believe Miss Elizabeth is setting her cap on your nephew, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, who is currently residing at the nearby estate of Netherfield with his friend, Mr. Bingley._

_Mr. Darcy and I were close companions in our youth though naturally his position in life is far higher than my own, and thus we have spent little time together in the last ten years. Even so I admit to being quite surprised at his recent behavior as he was raised to know right from wrong._

_I know of your nephew's intelligence, but I do not believe he has ever encountered a woman like Elizabeth Bennet. She is a lovely young woman with a most beguiling manner, and I fear that, as steady as Mr. Darcy is, he may be drawn in by her arts and allurements._

_Again, I apologize for my forwardness in writing you so boldly, but this situation is of great concern to me._

_Sincerely,_

_Lieutenant George Wickham_

Lady Catherine sat in shock for a full two minutes after finishing this distressing missive, and then read it again.

Then she cursed under her breath in a most unladylike way. Collins murdered and Darcy under the spell of his murderess! It could not to be!

A quick glance at the date at the top of the letter provoked more oaths. The letter had taken a full four day to travel from Meryton to Rosings, which was an outrage. She would have to move quickly. She rose determinedly to her feet and surged out the door, "Mr. Notley, come here immediately!"

/

George Wickham swore aloud as he shot a doubtful look at the sky. It was a full three hours after noon, and he had to be back to Meryton in less than ninety minutes to attend a tedious military exercise on the village green.

This was the fourth day he had skulked in the woods of Longbourn waiting for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He had talked to both men and women about the girl, surreptitiously of course, and all agreed that the second Miss Bennet was an inveterate walker. Even in the chill of December, she often walked alone through the dreary paths surrounding the Longbourn estate. Everyone said that this was common behavior for the lady.

But four days had passed by and Wickham had seen neither hide nor hair of the woman he intended to claim as his wife. Miss Bennet's wedding was only a few days away; perhaps her younger sister was busy with the final preparations?

In any case, he had only perhaps one more day to wait before he needed to flee Meryton. The vultures were gathering, spurred on no doubt, by the whispers of Fitzwilliam Darcy. How else to explain the many requests that he settle his bills and debts of honor? He had only been in Hertfordshire for a few short weeks, and in the past, his silver tongue and winsome features had won him several months of leniency before the collectors came calling.

He groaned softly to himself and looked down the path towards Longbourn for the hundredth time, only to stiffen with excitement. A bonnet had come in sight, a bonnet worn by a young lady who was, yes, Miss Elizabeth Bennet! At last! Apparently, it was true that good things come to those who wait.

George Wickham pushed off the tree against which he had been resting and strode through the woods to the path where his innocent bride awaited.

"Miss Elizabeth!"' he cried out cheerfully.

/

Elizabeth had fled Longbourn that afternoon in haste, greatly in need of time alone. Mrs. Bennet was a whirling dervish of excitement over Jane's upcoming wedding and kept both her servants and daughters hopping with frequent, often contradictory, instructions. Mr. Bennet, too, was a source of agitation. Elizabeth had longed for months to relinquish the heavy duties associated with running Longbourn, but now that her father was willing to take his position again as master of the estate, his second daughter found herself unsettled. Yes, it was wonderful that her father was sober and somewhat diligent, but she had grown used to carrying out tasks based on her own wisdom. It was odd and somewhat painful to no longer be the one making decisions.

Last, but not least, Elizabeth was profoundly disturbed about her own feelings regarding Mr. Darcy. Their first interaction, when he had insulted Kitty at the assembly in Meryton, had provoked her outrage and her ire. Then she had rescued him after his fall, he had apologized, and in subsequent weeks they had spent significant time together. Her anger had shifted to sympathy and then friendship and then fondness and now ...

Now, she confessed reluctantly to herself, she believed herself to be quite in love with the man. That was a remarkably stupid development given that he was master to a great estate and nephew to an earl, and she was but Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire, without a significant dowry, accomplishments, or connections. No, it was quite impossible that Mr. Darcy was attracted to her in the least, and thus her foolish heart had betrayed her.

She looked around in some astonishment, realizing that she had walked farther than intended. She knew Jane did not mind her leaving the manse for a much needed reprieve, but she really ought to be getting back.

At that moment, a flash of red caught her eye and she turned curiously to see Lieutenant George Wickham striding toward her from the direction of wooded area a short way off the path.

Elizabeth stopped immediately, her eyes wide with surprise and alarm, "Mr. Wickham?"

/

_Author note: It has warmed up some where I live. It's a lovely sunny and fairly warm day today. I hope you all are doing well! We are headed toward the end of the story, but there are still several chapters to go. I'll warn you when the last couple are coming up, as I will have to take down most of the story when I start publishing (per Amazon rules)._


	25. Chapter 25

##  Chapter 25

_author note: Warning: attempted but failed assault ahead._

/

“Are you excited, Bingley?” Darcy inquired with a chuckle, spurring his horse onward down a path in the vague direction of Longbourn.

“I am counting the hours, old friend, and I am not jesting. Only a few short days remain before Miss Bennet and I will be standing before God and man in the chapel in Meryton.”

“I am very happy for you, Bingley. The more I spend time with Miss Bennet, the more I believe she is your perfect match.”

Maxwell, who had been gamboling along ahead of the horses, suddenly barked and turned his pointed nose toward the south, toward Longbourn lands.

“What is it, Max?” Darcy asked affectionately. “Do you smell a bird or three?”

The spaniel looked at his masters imploringly and then took off suddenly, barking viciously. A moment later, both men heard the sound of a feminine scream.

/

Elizabeth had known the moment she laid eyes on Mr. Wickham’s tall form that the man had evil intent. His face was a mask of amiability, but his eyes were hard and desperate.

“Stay away from me,” she ordered him as he approached. “Stay away!”

“I have wonderful news, Miss Elizabeth,” he returned with a vicious smile. “You and I are going to be married.”

She screamed piercingly and turned to run back to Longbourn, to safety. She had only ten yards on the man and she was hampered both by her skirts and her short legs, but she ran for her life, for her virtue. Behind her, she heard the sound of pounding feet and cursing, and before she had gotten far at all, his heavy hands shoved her to the ground.

She twisted around and looked up into his jeering face, and she shrieked again as his right hand tore at the neckline of her dress. Without hesitation, Elizabeth turned her head and bit down hard on his hand, causing him to yell in fury and strike her with his left fist. 

Her head exploded in pain, and she cried out again, just as a flurry of angry barking burst upon her ears. Wickham, who had found his hands full with Elizabeth’s surprisingly vigorous defense, shouted in anguish as sharp teeth suddenly dug into his posterior. He lurched away from Elizabeth to face his new assailant, a red dog who retreated from his buttocks only to sink his jaws into Wickham’s right leg through the man’s breeches. 

George Wickham yelled again and hit the beast with his uninjured left hand. The spaniel was knocked back for a moment, then leaped in to snap viciously at Wickham’s fingers.

The steward’s son leaped up, intent on escaping into the woods toward Meryton, just as two horses thundered down the path and halted between him and safety. A moment later, Fitzwilliam Darcy, heedless of his still sore ankle, leaped off his horse and punched Wickham in the jaw. The steward’s son was knocked off his feet and onto the ground. Darcy, his face suffused with wrath, socked him again on the face.

“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley exclaimed fearfully, rushing over to kneel down next to the girl. “Are you all right?”

Elizabeth sat up cautiously, her hand on her aching forehead, and nodded through her tears, “I am … I am all right. Thank God you are here, both of you. Thank God.”’

Bingley patted her arm clumsily as he turned to face Wickham, who was lying on the ground with Darcy crouching over him; his friend’s face was positively murderous and Bingley, for all his affability, felt equally enraged.

“What have you to say for yourself, Lieutenant Wickham?” he snarled angrily.

Wickham sat up cautiously and smiled unpleasantly, “What have I to say? I say that I will soon be your brother by marriage, Bingley. Miss Elizabeth will soon be my bride.”

“She most certainly will not!” Darcy hissed, his hands clenching into fists.

Wickham kept a wary eye on his old playmate, but he maintained his insouciant grin, “Oh, but she will. She is ruined otherwise, and all her beautiful sisters with her, including Miss Bennet. Do you not see?”

Darcy turned toward Elizabeth and watched as the color drained from her face, her beautiful eyes suddenly lifeless.

“He is right,” she murmured, her expression blank. “I am ruined elsewise.”

“Do not take it too much to heart, Elizabeth,” Wickham proclaimed, straightening his back. “I am quite a handsome devil, if I do say so myself. As soon as your father makes you heiress of Longbourn, we will be married and, I am certain, very happy together.”

“Heiress of Longbourn …” she murmured in bewilderment.

“Of course, or I will not find it worth my while to marry you,” Wickham proclaimed calmly.

Darcy had had enough. He settled his body firmly and lifted one mighty fist and smashed it into Wickham’s face, knocking him over. He hit him three more times, ignoring the howls of pain, until the vile cur lost consciousness.

When he looked up, both Bingley and Elizabeth were staring at him in awe and some degree of surprise.

“I will not let this happen, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said gravely, rubbing his right fist with his left hand. “I promise.

“What can you do?” she asked, tears trickling down her face. “He will tell everyone what happened here …”

“I pledge to you that he will not,” Darcy intoned passionately. “He will not. Please let me think.”

Elizabeth nodded and obediently fell silent, struggling to calm herself. Maxwell, sensing her distress, touched her face with his wet nose, causing her to smile feebly, “You are such a good dog, Maxwell, to come to my rescue against that bad man.”

“He is a hero,” Darcy agreed suddenly. “Bingley, help me get Wickham up onto your horse, if you will. I will lead your horse back to Netherfield and lock Wickham in the stable tack room. My footmen can help guard him. Are you able to walk back to Longbourn with Bingley’s help, Miss Elizabeth?”

She shook her head, “I can walk, yes, but I cannot return to Longbourn like this. My mother is an inveterate gossip.”

“Surely she will keep quiet about this horrifying affair!” Bingley exclaimed.

“She will not,” Elizabeth insisted, wiping her eyes. “Even with the best of intentions, it will slip out. No, if I go home now, we are ruined.”

“Then we will bring you back to Netherfield with us,” Darcy declared. “Come, Bingley, help me get Wickham on my horse and you can bring Miss Elizabeth with you. We will take Wickham to the stables, wrap Miss Elizabeth in a stable blanket to cover her torn dress, and bring her into Netherfield Hall. My sister, Mrs. Annesley, and Mrs. Hurst can tend to her and lend her new clothing. We can then send a message to Longbourn informing them that Miss Elizabeth had an accident during her walk, and we brought her to Netherfield.”

“What a brain you have!” Bingley said admiringly, moving forward to help lift the somnolent form of the lieutenant onto Darcy’s horse. “But what of Wickham?” 

“I will not permit him to wag his foul tongue on this matter,” Darcy assured them both. “That I promise you.” 


	26. Chapter 26

##  Chapter 26

“Mrs. Hurst, Mr. Bingley wishes to see you in the front hall as soon as possible,” the butler announced.

Louisa Hurst quickly set aside her book, _Lyrical Ballads_ by Wordsworth and Coleridge, and hurried to her brother. Charles was standing with a supportive arm around Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who was wrapped in a rough blanket. The girl’s face was pale save for a large red knot on her forehead, and she was muddied and disheveled.

“Elizabeth! What happened?” Louisa exclaimed in distress, rushing forward.

“Elizabeth took a hard fall during a walk,” Bingley explained. “Can you please help me get her upstairs and take care of her while I have a servant summon Mr. Jones?”

“Of course,” she assured him, rushing forward sympathetically. Bingley waited until she was at Elizabeth’s side and then moved over to whisper into her ear, “Louisa, do not allow the servants to observe the state of Elizabeth’s dress.” 

Louisa suppressed a gasp and smoothed her expression, “Come upstairs immediately, Elizabeth. Charles, please assist us to the top of the stairs, and then we will be well. Gertrude, summon Mrs. Annesley and Miss Darcy to my bedchamber, if you would. I believe they are currently in the music room.”

/

“Miss Darcy, Mrs. Annesley, thank you for coming so quickly.”

Georgiana gazed in wide eyed horror at Elizabeth, whom Louisa was helping out of her tattered dress.

“What happened?” her companion inquired steadily, moving over to help Mrs. Hurst.

“I am not certain,” Louisa replied in a low tone, “but Charles told me that the servants must not see her dress. I think she was attacked by someone.”

“George Wickham,” Elizabeth said faintly, and suddenly she was trembling violently and tears filled her eyes. “He was lying in wait for me in the woods of Longbourn and he ... he … he would have taken my virtue if my saviors, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley and Maxwell, had not rescued me.”

“Hush now, hush,” Mrs. Annesley soothed her. “You are entirely safe now. Miss Darcy, I believe the yellow dress can be quickly adjusted to fit Miss Elizabeth. Do I have your permission to get it for her along with one of your nightgowns?”

“Of course,” Georgiana gasped, her own eyes filled with sympathetic tears. That vile, foul man! And to think she had thought once that she loved Wickham!

“Where is Mr. Wickham now?” Mrs. Hurst inquired softly, pulling down the covers for Elizabeth and helping her into the bed as Mrs. Annesley departed.

“Locked in the stable,” the Elizabeth murmured, her eyes closing. “Mr. Darcy promised me that he will keep Wickham quiet, though I know not how he will manage that. But I trust him.”

Georgiana finally found her voice, “Do not worry, Miss Elizabeth. My brother will make a way.”

A few minutes later, the door opened and Mrs. Annesley entered with a two garments in her arms and a sewing kit in her hand, all of which she put down on a nearby chair, “Mrs. Hurst, Miss Elizabeth needs to be cleaned up but the servants must not see her torn dress. Do you have a suggestion?”

Louisa looked around thoughtfully before nodding, “I think it will burn well enough in the fire, will it not? Then we will summon Gertrude with warm water and soap.”

/

“Is Elizabeth all right?” Jane Bennet asked urgently as her beloved Charles handed her out of the Longbourn carriage.

“She will be well. Mr. Jones is just examining her now,” Charles explained soothingly. “Mr. Bennet, I am thankful that you could come.”

His future father was pale with worry, “Will you take us to her?”

Charles hesitated briefly and then glanced at Longbourn’s coachman, who was sitting stolidly on the seat behind the horses, “I suggest you send your carriage back to Longbourn, Mr. Bennet. I will be pleased to bring you home in my own carriage later in the day.”

Bennet frowned at this but nodded and gave the order. Once the threesome were safe from curious ears, Charles quickly filled them in on the true situation.

Jane was so distressed that she swayed in place and might have fallen save for her love’s supportive arm, “I cannot believe it. Mr. Wickham attacked Lizzy? How could he do such a thing? And why?”

Bennet was furious and frightened, “Where is Wickham, Bingley?”

“He is in the stable, though I am not aware whether he has regained consciousness after the beating he received at Darcy’s hands. Sir, I urge you to entrust this vile man to me and Darcy. Darcy has long experience with the man, and I will soon be your son. Elizabeth’s reputation, and yours by association, will be protected so long as this dreadful affair is not shared with too many people including, I believe, Mrs. Bennet.”

“You are correct, Charles,” Jane agreed dismally. “Mama would not be able to keep silent on the matter, do you not agree, Father?”

“I do,” Mr. Bennet agreed, gazing longingly at the stable. He wanted, more than anything else, to go inside and beat the pulp out of the foul man who dared to harm his Lizzy, but Bingley was right, that would only cause tongues to wag.

“I will take you to Elizabeth now,” Bingley said, gently shepherding both of them into Netherfield Hall. 

/

“Well, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that is quite a hard knock on the head you have, but you will be well enough with rest,” Mr. Jones said cheerfully, tucking the girl carefully back into bed. “Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet, I urge you not to look so terrified. This is hardly the first time Miss Elizabeth had managed to harm herself, or perhaps you have forgotten the time she fell out of an elm tree and broke her arm?”

Jane forced herself to chuckle at this, “Yes, Mr. Jones, our dear Lizzy has always been a rambunctious person; I suppose it was too much to hope that she would grow calm with age.”

“Now Jane,” Elizabeth murmured sleepily, and Jones clasped Bennet by the arm and drew him into the corridor. 

“Let her sleep, Mr. Bennet. That is the best thing for her.”

“You are quite certain she will be well?” Bennet demanded.

“Yes. Fortunately, she struck her head where the skull is thick and strong. Do not fear for her, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” Elizabeth’s father responded gratefully.

/

“Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Bennet?” Bingley asked quietly.

His fiancée’s father hesitated and then shook his head, “I think not, Bingley. I have only recently broken free from turning to alcohol in times of distress. It would be unwise for me to indulge during this catastrophe.”

“It is not a catastrophe, Mr. Bennet,” Darcy assured him, gesturing for Bennet to sit down next to the fire in Bingley’s office. “I promise you that Miss Elizabeth’s reputation will be unsullied by Wickham’s vile attack.”

The older man wiped a tear off his withered cheek, and he shook his head, “I never should have let her wander so freely, but it did not occur to me that she would be unsafe on Longbourn land.”

“Wickham is an atrocious reprobate, Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said gravely. “You are not to be blamed for failing to anticipate his abhorrent plan, and I understand from Mr. Jones that she will recover well?”

Darcy asked this rather anxiously, and Bennet nodded, “Yes, Jones says she will recover completely. I do not understand, though. Why would he attack my Lizzy?”

“He planned to coerce you into bequeathing Longbourn to Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy explained gravely. “He threatened to ruin her reputation if you did not agree to both the marriage and his preferred disposition of the estate.”

Bennet let out a hysterical crack of laughter, causing both of the younger men to exchange alarmed glances.

“My apologies, gentlemen. Elizabeth is indeed my heiress, but I kept that fact a secret as I did not want her harassed by prospective suitors. Perhaps if I had made her position generally known, he would not have taken such a violent path.”

“It would not have mattered,” Darcy assured him. “Wickham must have known you would never accept him as a son by marriage without some degree of coercion, and Miss Elizabeth is far too sensible to fall in love with a man who is a liar and a cheat.”

Bennet sighed, “I suppose so. What do you intend to do with Wickham, Mr. Darcy?”

“I have sent for my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, the second son of my uncle, the Earl of Matlock. He is in London at present, and I anticipate that he will be here early tomorrow morning. He will help me deal with Wickham.”

“You are certain the scoundrel cannot escape his current abode?”

“He is well guarded,” Bingley declared. “My coachmen and stable boys are reliable and discreet, and Darcy has two footmen who can assist in watching the rogue. Do not be alarmed. Indeed, I think it would be best if you returned home shortly, Mr. Bennet, though if you could leave Jane here to help watch over Elizabeth, we would all appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Bennet said.

/

“Pledge me that this will not delay your wedding, Jane,” Elizabeth murmured softly from her bed in one of Netherfield’s guest chambers

Jane tenderly laid another cool cloth on her sister’s knotted forehead, “Do not worry about that now, dear Lizzy. Charles and I can always wait a few more days to wed if necessary.”

“No, you must go ahead, with or without me. I will not let that disgusting, horrible, evil man disrupt our lives any more than he already has.”

Jane leaned over a planted a kiss carefully on her dearest sister’s cheek, “We both need you at the wedding, Elizabeth, not only because it is my greatest desire to have you in attendance, but because it would cause tongues to wag if you were not present. If you are not well enough to come, we will wait, so the best thing you can do is to rest and recover as quickly as possible.”

Elizabeth nodded and closed her eyes, only to open them again, “You will stay all night with me? Promise me?”

“Of course, dearest Lizzy. Of course.” 


	27. Chapter 27

##  Chapter 27 

“Richard, thank you for coming so quickly,” Darcy said, grasping his cousin’s hand tightly. The sun was barely above the horizon, which meant Fitzwilliam had left London in darkness.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was generally a cheerful young gentleman. At the moment, however, his face wore the expression of a military man prepared to charge toward a French line.

“Is it Georgiana?” he demanded.

“No, no,” Darcy replied. “Georgiana is entirely well. Do you need a few minutes to refresh yourself in your room, or can we talk immediately?”

“It is all of four and twenty miles from London on a good road, Darcy. Of course, we can talk right now. Indeed, I insist we talk now.”

Darcy nodded and guided his cousin into Bingley’s study, which his friend had set aside for his use.

“Sit down near the fire, Richard,” he instructed. “We are trying to keep this terrible business private from the servants since we do not want even a whisper of a rumor to come out, so I will keep my voice low.”

“I have excellent hearing, cousin. Get on with it.”

Darcy did get on with it. He described his discovery that Wickham was in Meryton, the attempts made to mitigate Wickham’s ravaging of the local merchants and women, the attack on Elizabeth, and Wickham’s current prison in the tack room in the stable.

The colonel listened intently, his expression remote, until Darcy fell silent.

“This Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Fitzwilliam said gravely. “She is sister to the lady who will soon be Mrs. Bingley?”

“Yes.”

“Obviously if word were to get out of what happened today, the entire Bennet family would be ruined.”

“Yes, and that must not happen, Richard. This is my fault. I should have moved against Wickham after Ramsgate but I was so afraid of Georgiana’s reputation being damaged …”

“Well,” his cousin commented flippantly. “We should just kill the rogue and be done with it.”

The expression on Darcy’s face took him aback, and he turned a startled look on his cousin, “I am joking, of course.”

“I am very nearly not,” Darcy returned, rising to his feet and taking a few quick steps back and forth across the carpet. “When I think of what he has done, attacking a gentlewoman, attempting to force her to marry him to steal an estate – Fitzwilliam, I confess that when I saw him there, smirking at me, I was tempted to pick up a handy rock and crush his head in.”

“I am glad you did not,” Fitzwilliam said gravely.

“Why not?” Darcy demanded. “You have not had much use for Wickham in many years, Cousin. If you had come across Wickham at Ramsgate, I believe you would have been sorely tempted to thrust a sword through the man.”

“I am thankful because it would have destroyed you, Darcy. You are not a killer.”

“And you are, Cousin?”

“I am a colonel in his Majesty’s army and have fought the French in battle. Thus, I have killed, yes. If I fought Wickham and, in the heat of the moment, killed him, I would not have lost any sleep over it. But you – it would likely have shattered your soul if you had given into murderous rage. Nonetheless, I am thankful you are ready to finally deal with that villain in an appropriately firm manner.”

Darcy nodded and dropped onto his chair again, his head in his hands, “What do you suggest, Richard? We cannot keep him here long; while I trust my footmen and Bingley’s coachman and stable boys, the longer he stays, the more chance the whole regrettable situation will become known.”

“Let me think, Darcy.”

Darcy fell silent and waited for a full ten minutes, at which point Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned unpleasantly and announced, “Oh, I have a charming idea.”

/

George Wickham, who had been resting on a simple cot which usually served a stable boy, sat up as the door to his makeshift prison opened. A moment later, Darcy entered with a lantern in his hand, followed by a broad shouldered individual whose familiar face brought a jolt of terror into the heart of the steward’s son.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” he croaked out, rising cautiously to his feet and restraining the instinct to cower. “I should have known you would be involved in this vile affair. How dare you keep me here as a prisoner?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Wickham,” the military man replied with a cheerful smirk, moving a little closer. “I suppose that since I am the second son of an earl and you but the reprobate son of a steward, I will not get in much trouble at all.”

“Colonel Forster will have you up on charges!” Wickham blustered. “You cannot lock up a member of the militia in this irregular way!”

“Oh my dear fellow,” Fitzwilliam replied with insincere sympathy, “I assure you that the colonel will never have the slightest idea that you spent a few comfortable hours in this very lovely stable. You see, you will soon be taking the King’s shilling as an army infantryman and joining the regiment of a compatriot of mine, Colonel Milner. Within a few weeks, Milner will be embarking with his company to the Canadian provinces and you, my old enemy, will be sailing with him.”

Wickham managed a sardonic grimace through the pain of his throbbing face, “I most certainly will not, Colonel. You cannot force me to take the enlistment oath, and I will not.”

“That is quite all right,” the Colonel drawled. “The alternative is even more attractive. In the next few days, you will be arrested in London for desertion from the militia; that, along with your petty thievery and unpaid debts, will be enough to earn you a hanging. It is a pleasing proposition, and personally I prefer this option.”

Wickham shot an uneasy look at Darcy, who was standing in front of the door with his arms crossed, his fists clenched, “What are you speaking of? I have no intention of deserting the militia!”

“Oh, but you will, do you not see? We will bind and gag you and place you in Bingley’s carriage, carry you off to Darcy House and lock you in the cellar under guard, and then drop you off in a seedy part of London a few days later, only to immediately arrest you for desertion. I assure you that the officials involved in your trial will take my word over any wild story about being abducted by high borne gentlemen like Darcy and me.”

“You would ... you would not,” Wickham choked out, his eyes wild with fear, his face white as parchment. “You are an officer and a gentleman, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“An army officer by training, a gentleman by birth, yes, George Wickham,” the colonel replied in an arctic tone. “As such, I have no hesitation in arranging for the death of a vile cur like you.”

“Darcy!” Wickham squealed. “Darcy, please, you would not! You cannot! I am your father’s godson.”

Darcy took two long strides forward, causing Wickham to shrink in terror of another blow.

“You lay in wait in the woods and attempted to take Miss Elizabeth Bennet by force in order to coerce her into a hellish marriage, Wickham. You deserve death. If you wish to be breathing in a fortnight, I suggest you take my cousin’s most generous offer and sign up for the Regulars.”

Wickham stared at his old playmate incredulously, seeking any hint of mercy or weakness, and then shifted to a new line of attack, “And what of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her reputation? If you do this, Darcy, she and all her family will be ruined. I trust you would not do that to a lady of whom you think so highly.”

Darcy jerked slightly at this statement, which caused his cousin to narrow his eyes in interest even as he responded to Wickham’s threats, “I am afraid that the men in his Majesty’s 43rd Foot Regiment will have no interest in the wild accusations of an ill favored man like yourself, Wickham. I daresay it will be several years before you return to England, if you do not die on a Canadian battlefield. Darcy need not worry about the Bennet family.”

Wickham knew he was beaten, “Very well, I will join the regulars.”

“What a pity,” Fitzwilliam responded. “I was quite looking forward to seeing you hang, but Colonel Milner is always in need of more cannon fodder. Very well, we will leave shortly for London to arrange for your future as a genuine military man.”

“I need to see an apothecary,” Wickham insisted.

“Why? I daresay your face hurts a fair amount from Darcy pummeling it, but that will not kill you.”

“Bingley’s blasted dog bit me two times and Miss Elizabeth once. I need the wounds cleaned. The local man is supposed to be quite good – Mr. Jones, I believe his name is.”

“Obviously we will not permit you to speak to Jones,” Darcy stated coldly.

“Nor is he necessary,” Fitzwilliam added flippantly. “I have done a little battlefield work and am quite capable of binding up a few bites. Darcy, can you arrange for some water and bandages for this fine rogue? I suppose Milner would not be pleased if I handed over a man on death’s door from a raging infection.”

“One of the bites is on my ... my ...”

The colonel stared and then chuckled, “Your posterior? Well, Wickham, I suppose you will have to drop your pants for me, and I will do my best not to laugh!”

/

_Author Note: We are quickly approaching the end of_ Longbourn Inheritance _. I am going to be publishing this story (a better edited version with some additional content) on Amazon, and when I do I am required to take this story down from AO3. This time I am going to try advertising the date I will take the story down to try and make sure everyone who has been reading has a chance to finish. Drum roll please! This story will be taken down on Sunday March 14 th. It’s a tight schedule for everything I need to do, but I wanted to give you a couple of weeks notice._


	28. Chapter 28

##  Chapter 28

Darcy stepped into the tack room in the stable and nodded approvingly. His footmen John and Jacob were standing between Wickham and the door, while the prisoner himself was seated on his cot wolfing down a simple meal of bread and cheese, washed down with a flask of water. Jacob held a rope in one large hand, and both men were alert to possible escape attempts.

“Is all in readiness?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked from his position behind Wickham.

“Yes,” Darcy assured him. “Bingley’s carriage has been hitched to the horses and I have the letters with instructions to the staff at Darcy House. They will provide you with whatever assistance you need.”

“Excellent! Well, Wickham, it appears it is time for us to depart fair Hertfordshire together. John, Jacob, bind his hands and gag him.”

Wickham flinched, “Surely that is not necessary!”

“Nonsense, of course it is! I cannot have you yelling out of the carriage window, after all! Now I do urge you not to resist. I understand that Darcy’s men here do not look upon you with charity; it would be a great pity if you were injured more.”

The twins advanced upon Wickham menacingly and the former militia lieutenant, realizing that resistance was indeed futile, submitted to being bound and gagged. The footmen then pulled him to his feet and walked him out of the tack room and into the waiting carriage, where he was pushed into the backward facing seat farthest away from the door. John sat down next to the prisoner and Jacob across from him. There would be no escape for George Wickham.

“Thank you again,” Darcy said sincerely, reaching out to shake his cousin’s hand.

“I would not have missed this for the world, Darcy, and will sleep far easier with the knowledge that George Wickham is no longer a threat to society. I will send you a suitably obscure letter when the man has been dealt with appropriately. Now, if a soldier may make a suggestion to his wealthy cousin, do not delay in claiming your lady. Miss Elizabeth Bennet must be remarkable indeed if she has attracted your attention.”

Darcy felt his face flame, “Miss Elizabeth _is_ absolutely incredible – warm, kind, gracious, intelligent and charming. But she is not well connected. Do I not owe it to Georgiana to marry a woman who can assist her in London society?”

“What is my mother for if not to assist in such a task?” the colonel inquired. “Come, Darcy, I know you well; you would despise a marriage of convenience. Georgiana will do far better with a good hearted woman as a sister than if you tie yourself to one of those society harpies. Of course, I assume Georgiana and the lady get on well together?”

A most unaccustomed smile lit up his cousin’s face, “Miss Elizabeth had my sister chatting happily within a few minutes of their acquaintance. It was something of a miracle.”

“I believe that is your answer then, Darcy.”

Darcy stared into his cousin’s face and nodded slowly, “You are correct, Richard. Thank you.”

The man nodded in approval and leaped into the carriage, and Darcy shut the door behind him.

“Drive on,” Darcy ordered the coachman, who was waiting patiently behind the horses.

“Yes, sir,” Bingley’s man replied.

The carriage jerked into motion, and Darcy watched as it sped down the side lane toward the main road, which would carry both prisoner and guards back to London.

He felt his body relax for the first time since Elizabeth’s attack. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a competent man. Wickham would never plague the Darcy family again.

He nodded at the two stable boys as they quietly cleaned out the room from Wickham’s short term imprisonment, “Thank you both. Please accept my gratitude for your silence and your assistance.”

Darcy held out a coin to each youth, which they accepted with enthusiasm. Then he strolled over to Maxwell’s kennel and leaned over to pat the dog on the head, “You are a very good dog, sir. A very good dog indeed.”

Maxwell jumped up and down and whined, obviously desirous of joining him in a frolic, but Darcy shook his head, “I apologize, Maxwell, but I must return to the house. I will come back later with a choice bit of meat, I promise.”

The dog cocked his head, causing one floppy ear to flip beguilingly, then sighed and lay down again.

“Good boy,” Darcy repeated affectionately, and left the barn to begin the trek back to the house. His ankle was hurting more today, no doubt irritated by his decision to leap off of Galileo and pummel Wickham. Perhaps he should use crutches again for the rest of the day, just to allow his injured limb to rest ...

That thought trailed off as he turned a corner to be confronted with a familiar looking carriage standing in front of Netherfield Hall. The man sitting being the horses doffed his hat at the gentlemen, “Good day, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy’s heart lurched within him, “Is Lady Catherine inside, Williams?”

“Yes, sir.”

/

“Sit by the fire, Miss Elizabeth,” Georgiana instructed, pushing the chair a little closer to the leaping flames. “You must not take a chill.”

Elizabeth obediently took her seat and smiled gratefully at the young gentlewoman, “Thank you. I do hope you will not worry about me excessively. I feel much better today and Jane will tell you that I am made of hearty stock.”

“She is,” Jane agreed, “but I also agree with Miss Darcy that you must be very cautious today, no matter how little you relish it. Charles and I are to be married in only two days, and we want you entirely healthy for the ceremony.”

Elizabeth lifted a cautious hand to touch the knot on her head, “I am quite sure I can attend the wedding, though my forehead may excite some comments.”

Georgiana narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, “If you are interested, my maid Jenny can help you in changing your hair style to hide the lump.”

“Oh, I would not dream of stealing your maid’s time!”

“Nonsense, Miss Elizabeth. Jenny enjoys arranging hair, and you have such lovely locks. Please do allow her to assist you tomorrow!”

The door to the sitting room opened, and Bingley’s butler stepped in, his usually impassive face displaying unease, “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

Georgiana gasped in astonishment and distress as a middle aged lady, tall and large, her face twisted in a ferocious scowl, stalked into the room and cast a disparaging look about her.

“Lady Catherine!” Miss Darcy squeaked in astonishment as all four ladies rose to their feet. “This is entirely unexpected!”

“Georgiana,” the lady said angrily, “Why are you here and not in London?”

“Mr. Bingley invited me here to spend the Christmas holidays with Fitzwilliam,” the girl admitted meekly, hunching slightly in the presence of her intimidating aunt.

“I presume one of you is the lady of the house?” the woman continued imperiously, glaring at the Bennets and Mrs. Annesley.

“No, Madam,” Jane said quietly. “Mrs. Hurst is consulting with the housekeeper at the moment.”

Lady Catherine stared down her nose at them before turning to her niece, “Georgiana, introduce me to your companions.”

Georgiana flushed uncomfortably, “Lady Catherine, my companion Mrs. Annesley, Miss Bennet, soon to be married to Mr. Bingley, and her younger sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

The lady’s already high color turned nearly purple as her brown eyes bugged in outrage, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet? How dare you breathe the same air as my niece! Where is Darcy, Georgiana! I will have much to say about his decision to allow this trollop ...”

“You will stop speaking now, Lady Catherine!” Darcy snapped, nearly running into the room with Bingley at his heels. “Stop immediately!”

Georgiana heaved out a deep sigh of relief and turned toward Elizabeth, who wore a confused expression, “Miss Elizabeth, please do sit down. You ought not to be standing after your accident.”

“Darcy, I insist that you escort Georgiana, her companion, and Miss Bennet away from this room immediately,” Catherine de Bourgh ordered. “I must speak privately with this ... this Elizabeth Bennet alone.”

“Miss Elizabeth, Georgiana is correct. Please sit down. Lady Catherine, you will temper your tone and words immediately. You have no right to storm in here and give outrageous commands.”

“Have you forgotten who I am? I am Lady Catherine de Bourgh, daughter of an earl, and your aunt! You will obey me!”

Darcy took a deep breath, struggling to control his ire, “I most certainly will not. I am eight and twenty and my own man. Come, let us retire to another room to discuss your most unexpected journey to Netherfield Hall.”

“I will not,” the lady responded furiously. “Do you imagine I will permit a murderess to remain within the same room as my precious niece?”

There were a series of horrified gasps at this statement, and Darcy shot a bewildered look on Miss Elizabeth, who looked stunned and angry.

“Lady Catherine, again, you must temper your words!” he directed. “What is this nonsense you are spouting? No one has been murdered.”

“That merely shows how you have been befuddled and bewitched by this woman. I have it on very good authority that Mr. Collins, my rector, was murdered by this woman or, perhaps, her father.”

Darcy stared at his aunt in dismay, “That is absolute nonsense! Where did you hear such a terrible thing?”

The lady shrugged, “It does not matter; suffice it to say that I trust my source. Is it not true that Mr. Collins supposedly died after being thrown from a horse?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, “though there is no ‘supposed’ about it. He foolishly insisted in riding a young filly who is a difficult ride and she threw him. Most regrettably, he hit his head on a rock and died some hours later.”

“I do not believe it,” Lady Catherine snarled. “I maintain that the Bennets murdered my rector to break the entail on Longbourn, and now this Elizabeth Bennet, whom I will not call a lady, has sunk her claws into you, Darcy. It shall not be! Shall the shades of Pemberley be polluted by a mistress of no fortune and base connections whose family harbors a killer?”

There was a genuine squawk from Georgiana and Darcy turned his attention on his sister, whose mouth hung open to reveal pearly teeth.

“Mrs. Annesley, kindly escort Miss Darcy to the drawing room,” he ordered. Georgiana rose to her feet with alacrity and fled the room with her companion in pursuit.

Darcy turned to the other three individuals still remaining, “Bingley, Miss Bennet, would you be willing to help Miss Elizabeth upstairs to her room? I will not permit her to be abused by Lady Catherine, especially given her fragile health.”

Elizabeth scowled, “No, Mr. Darcy, I will not leave given that your aunt has hurled a most dreadful accusation against my family in general, and the most ridiculous charge against me in particular. Lady Catherine, our cousin’s death was a tragic accident, and if your source told you that Mr. Darcy and I are courting or engaged, he is lying about that as well. There is nothing between me and your nephew.”

Darcy fought to keep his face neutral. Was it possible that Miss Elizabeth did not know of his love for her?

“Is this true, Darcy?” his aunt demanded suspiciously.

“Miss Elizabeth and I are neither courting nor engaged,” he informed her through tight lips.

The woman relaxed significantly, obviously far more worried about Miss Elizabeth as the potential mistress of Pemberley than that she might be a secret killer.

“Very good, Darcy. And will you promise me to never enter into such an engagement with Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

Darcy straightened his spine and glared down at the woman, “I will make no promise of the kind.”

There was yet another communal gasp, and Darcy turned a rueful gaze on the woman who had stolen his heart. She was flushing and her brown eyes seemed even finer than usual.

“Mr. Darcy?” she asked in wonder.

He found himself on his knee before her, “Miss Elizabeth, I can no longer conceal my ardent feelings of love and adoration toward you. You are a most beautiful lady, but you are also brave, diligent and intelligent. I had no intention of ... of proposing under such bizarre circumstances, but Lady Catherine’s interference has prompted this most unusual scene. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will you accept my hand in marriage?”

/

_Author Note: I always get excited as we near the end of a story and start pulling everything together to publish the final version on Amazon. The main story of_ Longbourn Inheritance _will have 32 chapters (all to be posted here on AO3). The published version will have various tweaks, edits and additions, including 2 extra Epilogue chapters. The first will take place about 1 and a half years after the end of the main story, and the second will be 10 years into the future, so we can how all of our favorite (or not so favorite!) characters are getting along. If you would like to be notified when the final version is available on Amazon, you can sign up for my Regency Romance Newsletter at the following link:_

[www.subscribepage.com/s1p4z6](https://www.subscribepage.com/s1p4z6)


	29. Chapter 29

##  Chapter 29 

Elizabeth stared in amazed delight at the tall gentleman, whose usually austere expression was now one of tenderness, and yes, love.

“You ... you love me?” she managed to gasp, her face brightening with incredulous joy.

“He is not permitted to love you!” Lady Catherine screeched hysterically. “He is promised to my daughter, Anne!”

“Be quiet, Lady Catherine,” her nephew commanded absently. “Yes, dear Miss Elizabeth, I love you to the very depths of my being.”

“Then yes, Mr. Darcy,” the girl replied, tears of happiness spilling down her cheeks. “I accept your hand in marriage.”

There was a most unaccustomed squeal of joy from Jane, and Bingley laughed aloud with delight.

It took a full five seconds for Lady Catherine to recover enough to speak, but when she did so, she screamed so loudly that all other conversation was drowned out, “No, no! This cannot be! Darcy, you are engaged to Anne! You ... you ... hussy! How dare you reach above your station in this way?”

Darcy and Bingley looked at one another and stepped forward to grasp the lady by her arms and drag her out of the room.

Elizabeth watched in awe as the lady was pushed out into the hall and turned her attention to her dearest sister, “Jane, did that really happen?”

“Indeed it did,” Miss Bennet replied with happy tears in her eyes, “You are engaged to Mr. Darcy!”

/

_Army barracks_

_London_

“Just a warning,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said to his friend, Colonel Milner. “Wickham is a slippery character. I suggest you take care that he not duck away into the seedy underbelly of London before your ships depart for Canada.”

His fellow colonel cast a jaundiced eye toward George Wickham, who was standing sullenly at attention after giving the enlistment oath before a magistrate.

“I appreciate the caution, Fitzwilliam,” he replied, turning to the two infantry men standing near the exit of his office. “Escort Private Wickham to the stockade and put him in irons.”

Wickham let out a brief yelp, which subsided when Milner glared at him menacingly.

“Have a charming trip. I believe the ocean can be quite exciting this time of year,” Fitzwilliam sang cheerfully as the man was marched away. Wickham glared at Richard but wisely did not speak.

Once the two colonels were alone, Fitzwilliam nodded to his friend, “Thank you for your assistance in this matter.”

“I am quite certain Wickham is going to be more trouble than he is worth, but of course I am always pleased to assist the son of the Earl of Matlock.”

Richard grinned, “What do you want in exchange for this favor, you rogue?”

“Oh, I am not quite certain,” the other man declared airily, “but I will think of something. But now, I have a fine bottle of Madeira that is calling both our names. Have a seat!”

/

“You are engaged to Anne, Nephew!” Lady Catherine howled. “Anne!!”

Darcy sighed and sat down on a nearby couch. He had sent Bingley away after both men, assisted by Bingley’s butler, had hauled the lady into a chilly parlor across from the sitting room where Elizabeth remained with the support of her elder sister. His ankle, naturally enough, was outraged at being treated so cruelly and throbbed relentlessly.

“Would you find my valet and ask him to bring the crutches?” he asked of Bingley’s butler, whose face was more than ordinarily blank.

“Crutches? Why do you need crutches?” the lady demanded, momentarily diverted.

“I injured my ankle some time ago, and while I can walk on it for much of the day, there are times when I require crutches.”

Lady Catherine huffed, “There must be something in the air of this wretched county! You injured your ankle, my rector supposedly died from being tossed from a horse, and Miss Elizabeth has an ugly knot on her forehead, presumably from clumsily stumbling over her feet. I cannot imagine what you are thinking, proposing to such an ill favored, graceless girl! You must be mad! But I can arrange everything, Darcy. No doubt Miss Elizabeth’s father will accept a bribe to break the engagement, not that there is an engagement, because you are promised to Anne …”

“Aunt!” he interrupted fiercely, “I am not and never was engaged to Anne, and I am irrevocably committed to marrying Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I know you are rarely content to admit defeat, but I beg you to consider our family name and depart for Kent immediately! I do not care to cause a public breech between Rosings and Pemberley, but I promise you that Elizabeth is now my primary responsibility.”

Lady Catherine stared down at him, her bosom heaving, for a full two minutes. Darcy allowed himself to entertain a frail hope that the lady would accept her defeat, but naturally that was not to be.

“This cannot be permitted!” she declared at last, her eyes flashing, the wrinkles in her face deepening in her fury. “I will not rest until this absurd engagement has been broken off; indeed, I shall proceed into that pathetic little hamlet, find the local magistrate and insist that the man look into this matter of Mr. Collins’s convenient death. I promise you that I will not leave this muddy backwater until you are free to marry my daughter, as it has always been meant to be.”

“Lady Catherine! Stop!” Darcy exclaimed, rising painfully to his feet. 

The woman strode imperiously to the door, only to pause with her hand on the knob for one parting shot, “I take no leave of your pathetic, spineless friend, Mr. Bingley, or of those Bennet hoydens. I am most seriously displeased!”

/

Colonel Fitzwilliam halted in front of the Earl of Matlock’s elegant town house, swung off his horse, handed his reins to the waiting boy, and rapidly climbed the steps to the stately main door.

The butler opened it with smooth grace and bowed, “It is good to see you, sir. Her ladyship is in the east sitting room.”

Richard nodded and wandered casually down the hallway and into the sitting room where his mother, Lady Matlock, was seated near a window toiling busily on a piece of attractive white tatting. That in itself was not a surprise, but her companion caused Richard Fitzwilliam to halt in astonishment.

“Anne?” he demanded.

It was indeed his cousin, Anne de Bourgh, dressed in an expensive and unbecoming blue lustring dress, and the young lady looked far more animated than he had observed in many a year. At her side, also looking more cheerful than usual, was Mrs. Jenkinson, his cousin’s paid companion.

Anne rose to her feet and smiled happily, “It is indeed me, Richard. I have run away!”

Her cousin goggled, “Run away?”

“Yes, from Mother. Lady Matlock wrote me some time ago inviting me here to Matlock House whenever I wished to come, and when Mother disappeared in haste early this morning, I decided this was the perfect time to impose upon your mother’s kindness. Mrs. Jenkinson helped bribe a fearful coachman to hitch up the horses and drive us to Town, and here we are!”

“’Tis no imposition at all, dear Anne,” Rachel Fitzwilliam said placidly. “I am most pleased to have you here as long as you like.”

“I admit to being quite at sea,” Richard admitted as he settled down next to Anne. “Where is Lady Catherine?”

“She rushed off to Hertfordshire this morning,” Anne explained, “to an estate near a little town called Meryton.”

The colonel, who had been feeling entirely satisfied with life, quailed noticeably, “To Netherfield Hall?”

“Indeed, and based on your expression, you must have a guilty conscience about our mutual cousin Darcy? Is it true that he has fallen in love with a murderous hoyden?”

Lady Matlock set down her tatting, her usually tranquility clearly ruffled, “Is it true, Richard? Is that boy about to contract a mésalliance?”

“Er ...”

“I suppose that means yes,” his mother said in an accusing voice. “Richard, you are supposed to look after Darcy and prevent fortune hunters from taking advantage of him.”

“I know very little about the lady in question,” Fitzwilliam replied carefully, “but I assure you she is not a fortune hunter, nor is she a murderess. She is an intelligent lady of gentle birth, blessed with wit and diligence, and while her connections are not the best, I am quite certain Darcy will be very happy with her.”

Lady Matlock sighed deeply but she was too indolent to worry herself about the vagaries of a stray nephew, “Very well. I merely hope that your Father does not kick up a fuss on the matter.”

Richard decided that it would be wise to change the subject, “Anne, I am glad that you took this opportunity to flee to London and hope that you will enjoy your time attending theaters and parties and the like. You certainly deserve some pleasure after being trapped in Kent for all these years with Lady Catherine keeping you wrapped in lambs’ wool.”

Anne took a moment to pour tea for her cousin, which she handed over to him, “Yes, Richard, I do plan to attend parties and dances, but I will not do so for mere entertainment. Now that Darcy has jilted me, I must find myself a husband.”

Richard winced, “I am quite certain that Darcy did not mean to hurt you.”

She shot him a startled look and laughed aloud, “Oh dear, I must work on my tone, it seems. I am absolutely delighted that Darcy will marry elsewhere, and I am free from being hauled off to the frigid north, to Pemberley. No, I never wanted to marry Darcy as we would not suit well. We are both quiet, solemn people. I do, however, wish to marry as quickly as possible. I cannot take control of Rosings until my 30th birthday unless I am married.”

Lady Matlock lifted her eyes from her tatting again, “Do you have any particular requirements in a husband, Anne? I daresay I can find a pleasing man of good birth for you.”

Anne leaned back in her chair and tapped her lips thoughtfully with one rather bony finger, “Let us see, dear Aunt. I wish for a kind and cheerful man with an outgoing character who can offset my own shrinking nature.”

“Must he have a fortune?” her aunt inquired in a professional tone.

“No,” the younger lady answered after cogitating a moment. “No, Rosings is a very wealthy estate, and thus my husband need not bring money into our marriage.”

“My dear Anne, I am the very man for you,” Richard exclaimed with a laugh and a grin. “Kindly, cheerful, outgoing, of good birth, and poor.”

Anne de Bourgh turned her attention onto her cousin and smiled, “Richard, you are entirely correct. Will you accept my hand in marriage?”

His smile faded away and he regarded her gravely, “Truly?”

“Truly,” she responded, now looking rather unsure, “but of course if you were only funning, I understand.”

He moved closer and dropped to his knees before his cousin, “Anne, I cannot say with truth that I love you in a romantic sense, but if you will take me as your husband, I promise to serve and care for you for as long as we both shall live.”

“I accept those conditions,” the lady replied, and now tears sparkled in her eyes.

“Then it is done,” Richard declared joyfully. He kissed her hand gallantly and turned to his mother, who was staring at the couple with her mouth agape.

“What just happened?” Lady Matlock gasped.

“Your second son has captured one of the greatest heiresses in all of England, dear Mama, that is what happened!”

/

_Author note/Reminder: there are 3 more chapters coming (32 total), and then the story will have to be taken down on March 14._


	30. Chapter 30

##  Chapter 30

“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” the butler of Lucas Lodge announced loudly to his master.

Sir William Lucas, who had been dozing by the fire in his library, leaped to his feet as if stung by a hornet. His daughter Charlotte, who was reading a book in a nearby chair, also rose to her feet, though more composedly. The lady who stood behind his butler was tall, thick, very finely dressed, and wore a regal look of disdain on her sharp features.

“Lady Catherine,” Sir William managed to stammer out. “Please sit down. What an honor this is, Madame, what an honor! What can I do for your ladyship? Your wish is my command!”

The lady sat down on the office’s most padded chair, cast a disdainful look at her surroundings and lifted her nose, “I understand that you are the magistrate in this region?”

Sir William’s expression of enthusiasm shifted to one of wariness, “Yes, that is correct.”

Lady Catherine brushed an invisible speck off the arm of her chair and continued inexorably, “Do you know of a family by the name of Bennet?”

“Yes, Lady Catherine. Mr. Bennet and his family are very well known to me. They live at the Longbourn estate only a short distance from here.”

“Very good. I order you, as the justice of the peace of this bucolic region, to immediately charge Mr. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, his second daughter, with the murder of Mr. William Collins, my former rector.”

Charlotte choked at these words, and Sir William gaped like a fish. The lady’s disturbing statement rendered him speechless for a full minute, which did not please his visitor. 

“Do you plan to catch flies with your mouth hanging open so foolishly? Get moving, man, get moving and do what I command!”

Her host shook his head to clear it, “Lady Catherine, I ... I confess to being confused. Mr. Collins died from being thrown from a horse.”

“That is what you think,” she continued disdainfully. “I assure you that I have it on good authority that the man was murdered.”

“May I ask the identity of your authority?” Sir William inquired feebly.

“A Lieutenant George Wickham of the militia,” she announced grandly.

Charlotte waited ten seconds to see if her father would speak, but he was obviously too discombobulated to say a word.

“Lady Catherine,” she spoke up in a courteous tone, “I fear there must be some mistake. Lieutenant Wickham is well known in the area as a spendthrift and a rogue who has already, in his short time with the militia, run up a number of debts. He is not well thought of here.”

The lady glared at her, “I do not believe we have been introduced, Miss ...”

“Lucas,” her father managed. “Charlotte is my elder daughter. What she says is quite true. Mr. Wickham has a poor reputation in this area.”

“Nonsense, that must be due to the slanderous words of the murderous Bennets. George Wickham was godson to Mr. George Darcy, the husband of Lady Anne Darcy, my sister. My brother by marriage thought a great deal of young Wickham, and paid to send him to Cambridge. He is not a gentleman by birth, of course, but I trust his word over that of a grasping set of schemers like the Bennets! I insist that you interview the Bennets immediately and determine which of them struck down Mr. Collins!”

Sir William actually whimpered in distress, and Charlotte, realizing that her poor father was quite unable to handle the situation, gestured toward the darkening skies outside the window, “Lady Catherine, might I suggest my father wait until tomorrow and interview Mr. Wickham himself? If the lieutenant has evidence of such a foul deed – though it seems entirely impossible – would it not be wise to obtain that evidence? In any case, the weather feels rather uncertain, and it would be quite dreadful if you were caught out in the rain or snow tonight.”

Lady Catherine frowned but, after a moment, nodded reluctantly. She was indeed quite fatigued after a long day, and she had a healthy distaste for driving around on unknown roads in the darkness.

“Very well,” she agreed loftily. “Pray show me to your best bedchamber and send a maid to assist me. My own private maid, who is waiting in my carriage, will guide your manservant to bring in my trunk. You will also need to provide accommodations for my coachman and footmen.”

Sir William froze with bewilderment, but Charlotte spoke up again, “Of course, Lady Catherine. Might I have a maid escort you to the parlor and bring you some tea? We will have a tray of food available for you shortly.”

“Very well,” the lady allowed, sweeping regally out of the library. Charlotte summoned a maid and, as soon as Lady Catherine had disappeared, turned to her father, who was sweating openly.

“Charlotte, my dear, what must we do?”

“We must send a message to both Longbourn and Netherfield, warning them of this situation,” she said crisply.

“Thank you, my dear, that is quite sensible,” the man responded, sat down at a nearby desk, and pulled ink and paper to himself.

/

It was but two hours until midnight, and Lady Matlock, Anne, and Richard were preparing to retire to their respective bedrooms when the express arrived.

The colonel handed money to the express rider, tore open the letter from his cousin Darcy, and swore a minute later, provoking a cluck of indignation from his mother.

“My apologies,” he said absently, his eyes devouring the message again. “Darcy writes that Lady Catherine is wreaking all sort of havoc in Hertfordshire in the wake of Darcy’s marriage proposal to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Among other thing, Lady Catherine is accusing the Bennets of murdering the former heir to the estate, a Mr. Collins, who was your mother’s rector, Anne.”

“Murdering him?” Lady Matlock demanded in astonishment. 

“Yes,” growled her son. “It is absurd, of course; Darcy writes that the man was a fool who was thrown from a spirited horse which he insisted on riding in spite of several warnings as to her contrary nature.”

“I am so sorry for my mother’s ridiculous behavior,” Anne said contritely. “Anyone who spent any time at all with Mr. Collins would know that he was _exactly_ the sort of man to obstinately cling to a notion and be killed for his stupidity.”

“You obviously did not care for the man, then,” her fiancé commented.

“He was very much like my mother’s other underlings. He groveled before her obsessively and apparently did not have a single original thought in his head. He was harmless enough, I suppose, but extremely tiresome. That reminds me that, if we marry quickly, we will be able to appoint the new rector at Hunsford.”

“That is yet another reason for a quick marriage, Anne,” Richard agreed affectionately. “But while I wish I could marry you tomorrow morning, I must rush to Hertfordshire to assist Darcy. Apparently Lady Catherine consented to stay the night at the home of the local magistrate, but she will be out for blood tomorrow; thus I must be off at dawn to Hertfordshire.”

“Surely Darcy can take care of himself?” his mother asked mildly. “He is a very competent and determined young man.”

“He asks for my assistance,” Richard returned. He would not, of course, burden his mother or his intended wife with the details of George Wickham’s attack on Elizabeth Bennet, but if Lady Catherine discovered anything about the horrific matter, it would be devastating.

“Let me come with you,” Anne suggested unexpectedly. “It will take the wind from Mother’s sails when she discovers that you and I are engaged to be married.”

The colonel blinked in pleased surprise, “That would be delightful, Anne. Are you quite certain you are prepared for her screaming? She will be outraged at yet another blow against her dearest hopes for your future.”

Anne let her gaze skip down from her cousin’s face to his strong form and powerful limbs, “I do trust you to protect me, dear Richard.”

/

“What think you of children, Anne?” Richard Fitzwilliam asked softly, gazing at his cousin in the soft light of dawn.

Anne turned toward her fiancé, and her usually pale cheeks tinged with color, improving her looks.

“I ... like children,” she responded carefully, her eyes lowered with maidenly confusion.

The colonel glanced out through the open door of the carriage where Mrs. Jenkinson, accompanied by a maid and a male servant, was marching toward them with Anne’s trunks in her wake.

“Do you personally wish for children?” he asked rather urgently, aware that his time alone with his prospective bride was short.

“I do,” she declared, lifting her gaze to his. “Very much. However, I wish to see a new doctor to see if my health can be improved because I have come to the reluctant conclusion that old Dr. Sutton is incompetent. I hope and pray and believe that something can be done to restore my vitality.”

Richard heaved a soft sigh of relief and pressed a kiss upon his cousin’s hand, “I will pray the same thing, and as soon as we return to London, we will consult a dozen physicians if necessary.”

“A dozen would perhaps be too many,” Anne returned, a dimple forming on her cheek. “They would no doubt disagree and argue so much that nothing would be accomplished.”

Mrs. Jenkinson stepped into the carriage along with Emily, the lady’s maid who had accompanied Anne from Rosings, and the vehicle jolted into motion, onward to Meryton.

/

“Mr. Darcy,” the butler announced, stepping into the breakfast room at Lucas Lodge with the master of Pemberley at his heels.

Lady Catherine, who had been vigorously disparaging the toast which she was eating, stared eagerly at her recalcitrant nephew, “Darcy! Have you come to your senses, then?”

“Sir William, Lady Lucas, Miss Lucas and Miss Maria, my apologies for my early arrival. It was kind of you to put up Lady Catherine for the night.”

“It was our honor,” Lady Lucas quavered. She had initially been pleased to have the daughter of an earl sleep in her best bedchamber, but a few hours of Lady Catherine were quite enough for a lifetime.

“Darcy! I asked you a question!”

“Lady Catherine,” Darcy replied frigidly, “if you are asking whether I am engaged to Elizabeth Bennet, yes, of course I am. Your opposition to the match means nothing to me.”

Catherine de Bourgh opened her mouth in protest, but was drowned out by the cries of pleasure from the assembled Lucas family. Darcy found himself, to his surprise, smiling broadly as Sir William exclaimed with joy over the engagement and Miss Lucas’s face grew bright with happiness.

Only when the hubbub died down was she able to make herself heard, “Stop this nonsense, I command you! Darcy is engaged to my daughter Anne, not to the murderous Miss Elizabeth!”

There were distressed gasps from the Lucases and Charlotte spoke quickly, her eyes on Darcy’s now thunderous countenance, “Lady Catherine, I am entirely confident that Mr. Wickham’s accusations about Elizabeth are ...”

“Mr. Wickham?” Darcy questioned angrily, taking a menacing step toward his aunt, who had risen to her feet.

“Yes, Darcy, Mr. George Wickham who was, I know, a playmate of yours. He wrote warning me that you are infatuated with the Bennet hoyden, and furthermore informed me that she was responsible for the death of my rector, Mr. Collins.”

Darcy clenched his teeth and flushed red as he struggled to retain control of his temper. “It is true that Wickham and I were once friends,” he finally stated, “but we drifted apart many years ago. The man is a liar and a spendthrift and a cheat.”

“Nonsense! I know your father thought well of him until the end of his life and I trust the judgement of Mr. George Darcy over a youth infatuated by a marginally pretty hussy. I insist that we speak with Mr. Wickham immediately; he will show you that the Bennets are vile malefactors.”

Darcy glanced at Sir William, who was clearly horrified at this titanic argument between two high ranked individuals, and inclined his head, “Very well, Lady Catherine. Let us indeed speak to Wickham. Sir William, are you willing to accompany us?”

“It would be my pleasure, sir,” the man quavered.

/

_Author note: I hope everyone is doing well. Spring is slowly coming, and I'm excited for warmer weather. :-) Two more chapters to go!_


	31. Chapter 31

##  Chapter 31

Colonel Forster, with Captain Denny standing at his side, considered his three visitors with grave disquiet. Lieutenant Wickham had already proven a thorn in his side, but now Sir William Lucas, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy were in his office inquiring about the miscreant. It was not a good sign and would likely prove even more bothersome than inquiries from the Meryton shopkeepers.

“Mr. Wickham has disappeared,” Colonel Forster explained to his three visitors, who had settled into chairs across from his desk. “He was last seen two days ago, and there has been no word from or sighting of him since then.”

Darcy forced himself to speak calmly, “Perhaps Wickham merely imbibed excessively and was not well enough to rise from his bed for a full day?”

Forster shook his head, “No. I instructed Captain Denny here to check his quarters this morning. Wickham’s bed has not been slept in for two nights now and when I ordered a search, a number of unexpected items were discovered in concealed places within his room.”

Sir William frowned, “What kind of items?”

The colonel silently lifted a box from next to his desk and began removing objects: a set of silver spurs, a watch on a fob with the initials ‘WP’ inscribed upon it, a crystal wine glass, a delicate necklace, a leather bound book of Shakespeare’s tragedies, and several silk handkerchiefs, all with different monogrammed letters, none of them corresponding to George Wickham.

Sir William gasped in shock, “That is our wine glass! Are you saying that the lieutenant stole all of these items?

“Yes. I fear that Wickham is a rogue and a robber; we have already returned half a dozen items to various officers. He is obviously a petty thief of some skill. We have also learned that he is indebted to most of the merchants in town, has lost a great deal playing cards with the officers, and all of these debts remain outstanding.”

“Where is the man?” Sir William demanded furiously. “That glass is one of a set which came from my dear wife’s mother. Lady Lucas was quite distressed at its disappearance!”

“I apologize profusely on behalf of the militia. As to the whereabouts of Lieutenant Wickham, I do not know. It seems almost certain that he fled because of his debts.”

“Or the Bennets murdered him in cold blood,” Lady Catherine declared, though her tone was more uncertain than usual.

Colonel Forster regarded the lady in astonishment, “Mr. Bennet of Longbourn, Lady Catherine?”

“Yes,” she continued determinedly, her nose inching upward. “Mr. Wickham sent a letter warning me that the Bennets are suspected of murdering my rector, Mr. Collins, who was heir to the estate of Longbourn, and covering their foul deed by suggesting he fell from a horse.”

Forster felt his headache bloom into full strength. This Lady Catherine, whoever she might be, was obviously well-connected and thus he could not insult her openly, even though she was obviously a fool.

“Captain Denny,” he said wearily, turning toward the man who had been standing silently thus far. “Do you know of this accusation of Mr. Wickham’s towards the Bennets of Longbourn?”

Denny shook his head, his genial face creased in confusion, “No, sir. In fact, Mr. Wickham expressed his desire to marry Miss Bennet, before her engagement to Mr. Bingley, that is. The last few days, he has spoken of his admiration for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I do not understand his letter to you at all, my lady.”

“It is simple enough, Lady Catherine.” Darcy responded coldly, swallowing down his fury that Wickham had been bandying Elizabeth’s name around. “Wickham sought to capture an heiress, and he knew of my own interest toward Miss Elizabeth. He wrote that letter in the hopes that you would dissuade me from my own pursuit of Miss Elizabeth.”

The lady glared at her nephew irritably, “But Miss Elizabeth is not the heiress of Longbourn, is she? Surely the eldest Miss Bennet will inherit by right of birth?”

“It hardly matters,” Darcy pointed out. “Wickham is a liar and a thief. You were brought here on a wild goose chase, and I encourage you to return to Rosings as soon as possible before the man makes you look the fool.”

Catherine de Bourgh had wilted slightly at the news that Wickham was unreliable, but now her eyes flashed with their old fire, “Never! I will not depart until you swear an oath to me that you will not marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet! She is not worthy to be the mistress of Pemberley! You must marry Anne!”

Darcy ground his teeth at his aunt’s insistence on airing private family business in public and opened his mouth in protest, only to close it when the door to the office swung wide to reveal a young, rather uncertain lieutenant.

“Colonel Forster, a Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss de Bourgh to see you. They say that they are connected to the gentleman and lady here ...?”

“Richard!” Darcy exclaimed happily. “And Anne, please do come in!”

“Anne!” his aunt bellowed in astonished disapproval. “What are you doing here in Hertfordshire? Why did you leave Rosings without my permission?”

Anne shot a quick look at Richard Fitzwilliam, who tucked her arm closer to him supportively.

“Mother, Darcy, we have wonderful news! Richard and I are engaged to be married!”

/

“And then what happened?” Elizabeth asked curiously. She and Darcy, along with Jane and Bingley, were on their way to Longbourn in Bingley’s carriage. The apothecary had given Elizabeth permission to return to her home, and Darcy was eager to formally ask Mr. Bennet for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.

Darcy shuddered slightly, “I fear that Lady Catherine indulged in a most epic tantrum. She screamed and raged and howled until Richard asked me to escort Anne to the waiting carriage outside. I had left one of my footmen out in the street to catch Richard as he rode through Meryton, you see. At any rate, I kept Anne company until Richard emerged from the militia’s headquarters some fifteen minutes later with a weeping Lady Catherine on his arm.”

“Poor Lady Catherine,” Jane murmured.

“I confess to being more astonished than sympathetic,” Darcy admitted. “My aunt has spent her life arranging the lives of those around her, and no doubt it was a terrible shock to her system when my cousin Anne broke free of her shackles.”

“That sounds rather dire,” Elizabeth said sympathetically.

“It was,” Darcy admitted, reaching out to claim her hand in his own. “I admit to considerable surprise at my cousin Anne’s courage in leaving Rosings for London, where she and Richard quickly came to an understanding.”

“Do you believe they are fond of one another?” Jane asked kindly.

“Yes, they have long dealt well together. This engagement is a pragmatic one; Richard wishes for a wealthy wife, and Anne wishes for a strong husband to deal with Lady Catherine and help oversee Rosings. Nonetheless, I believe they are well suited and will be happy together.”

“I am glad,” Elizabeth said sincerely, and then added with a twinkle in her eye. “Miss de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam have been so kind to us, have they not, in providing another target for Lady Catherine’s ire?”

Darcy laughed and shook his head, “Once Lady Catherine arrives at Rosings later today, I suspect she will not leave the mansion until my cousins force her out. This trip to Meryton was a great failure on her part, and she will wish to lick her wounds in a place where everyone still venerates her.”

“Poor Lady Catherine,” Jane repeated softly.

/

“It seems you intend to drive me to drink, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet declared, lifting his cup of tea and gulping down its sweetened contents.

Darcy gazed at the man in astonishment. On those rare occasions when he had considered asking a man for his daughter’s hand in marriage, he had naturally assumed the gentleman in question would be overjoyed. He was, after all, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, master of a great estate.

“I do not understand,” he declared uneasily.

Mr. Bennet sighed deeply and ran a hand through his gray hair, “I do apologize. I have long prided myself on my wit but the sardonic edge seems to have rubbed off during the trials of the last years. It is merely that you seek to take away my most beloved daughter. Elizabeth is a treasure to me.”

“Yes, she is,” Darcy agreed cautiously. Was it possible that the man intended to refuse him?

“You have my permission, if not my blessing,” the older man assured him. “I would not dare to refuse a man like yourself, and of course I will always be indebted for your service to Elizabeth and our family. We would be ruined if not for you and Bingley.”

“I promise you, sir, that I love Elizabeth very much.”

Bennet’s grizzled features softened at these words, and he managed a sad smile, “I am thankful for that. In truth, I believe you and my Lizzy will deal well together. You are obviously an intelligent man, and I trust you will treat her well, unlike that fiend Wickham.”

Darcy’s face darkened, “I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make Elizabeth happy. As for Wickham, you will never see him again. My cousin has assured me that he will lie in irons until embarking for Canada, and Wickham’s new colonel will take care to watch over him very carefully to keep him from harming others.”

“I can only be thankful for that. When do you and Elizabeth wish to marry?”

Darcy’s mind flitted toward the woman he adored and their upcoming wedding night before firmly forcing his thoughts back on to the discussion at hand.

“As soon as possible,” he declared.

/

“You seem happy, Anne,” Georgiana said shyly.

Anne de Bourgh settled more deeply into a chair in Georgiana’s private sitting room and closed her eyes. It had been an exhausting two days since she had fled Rosings and she was extremely tired, but yes, very happy.

“I am,” she assured her young cousin.

“Do you love Richard?”

Anne opened her eyes at this and smiled a little, “Not in the romantic sense, Georgie. Richard and I are marrying for sensible, not romantic, reasons, though we are quite fond of one another. However, I know Richard to be an honorable, kindly man, and I am confident our marriage will be pleasant. Does that seem dreadful to you?”

Georgiana thought back to her brief romance with George Wickham, one sparked into flame by her own foolishness and Wickham’s practiced, deceptive charm.

“No,” the younger woman stated. “As you said, Richard is a gentle, noble man. Not all men are.”

Anne frowned at the odd note in her cousin’s voice, but decided not to probe further, “I will be free from Lady Catherine, which is reason enough for marriage, not that I would marry just anyone. But I have known Richard all my life and he knows Rosings well. It will be ideal.”

“When do you intend to be married?” Georgiana asked diffidently.

Anne’s mind flitted to the need for a new rector for Rosings, her mother’s penchant for making dreadful decisions, and Richard’s strength and intelligence which would serve her estate well.

“As soon as possible,” she declared.

/

_Author note/reminder: Longbourn Inheritance will be published soon – one more chapter to post here - hooray! The published version will have various tweaks, edits and additions, including 2 extra Epilogue chapters. The first will take place about 1 and a half years after the end of the main story, and the second will be 10 years into the future, so we can how all of our favorite (or not so favorite!) characters are getting along. If you would like to be notified when the final version is available on Amazon, you can sign up for my Regency Romance Newsletter at the following link:_

www.subscribepage.com/s1p4z6

**Author's Note:**

> Notice: I will be publishing this story on Amazon and therefore am required to take most of it down. I will remove most of this story on March 14, 2021, so if you start reading now, read quickly!
> 
> Be sure to check out my P&P novels on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.  
> The Enigmatic Mr. Collins - new release!  
> A Very Meryton Christmas  
> Darcy Sails After Her  
> A Fortuitous Fall  
> The Banished Uncle  
> The Blind Will See  
> I am Jael  
> I Have Been Jaeled
> 
> Fair warning. I intend to publish this entire story here (as I write it) including the last chapter, but the last chapter will only be up a few days before I have to take it down per Amazon rules when I self-publish.


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